


The Ace of Seijou

by PenniesBloom



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Asexual Character, Canon Compliant, Hand Jobs, Light Angst, M/M, iwaoi - Freeform, oikawa is ace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:09:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25806409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenniesBloom/pseuds/PenniesBloom
Summary: Oikawa Tooru wanted to hold Iwaizumi’s hand. And that was it. Nothing more, nothing less.Well, actually, a hug would be nice. But that was the extent of it.A story in which Oikawa struggles with coming to terms with his asexuality in light of his tentative relationship with Iwaizumi. He wants to enjoy the time he has left with Iwaizumi, before they part ways in university, but it's difficult when he feels as though he's disappointing Iwaizumi at every turn.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 20
Kudos: 159





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I was super excited to write this story for multiple reasons. For one, it's my first iwaoi fic, and these two mean so much to me. And two, as someone considering their own asexuality, I was really excited to explore it through Oikawa. I know there's a large spectrum in terms of asexuality and everyone has their own thoughts and feelings when it comes to sex, but please keep in mind that this is all comes from my own feelings and perspective. Please enjoy and don't be afraid to leave a comment!! :)

Oikawa Tooru wanted to hold Iwaizumi’s hand. And that was it. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Well, actually, a hug would be nice. But that was the extent of it. And the urge to hold Iwaizumi’s hand, to be hugged by him, to  _ date  _ him, grew stronger everyday. Oikawa found the longing to be so deeply rooted in his chest that sometimes it hurt just to look at his best friend from childhood. Sometimes it hurt so profoundly to know that Iwaizumi would never look at Oikawa the same way Oikawa looked at him that Oikawa wondered if he was a masochist. 

“Is your head in the gutter, Trashykawa?” Iwaizumi’s voice went in one ear and nestled at the forefront of Oikawa’s brain. Oikawa blinked and plastered on a smile, tilting his head to one side as he turned to gaze at Iwaizumi. 

“Why’s that, Iwa-chan?” he asked. 

Currently, Iwaizumi had his uniform shirt unbuttoned and was shrugging it off his arms. Any member of the Aoba Johsai Volleyball Club couldn’t help but take a peek at his well-toned body, regardless of sexuality– though, at the moment, it was only the two of them in the room. Beneath golden tan skin, muscles shifted with every movement, from his perfect abs to his bulging biceps to his strong thighs. None of it belonged on an eighteen-year-old, yet there Iwaizumi was, in all his muscled glory. 

Oikawa’s gaze darted from forearm to collarbone then back up to Iwaizumi’s eyes, which were placed carefully on Oikawa. Looking at Iwaizumi’s body was nice, Oikawa had to admit. But whenever he saw it, no matter how many times he saw it, nothing ever stirred inside him that wanted Iwaizumi to slam him against the nearest locker and kiss him. He simply… appreciated the affects working out had on the young man’s body. 

Iwaizumi raised a dark brow. “I asked how your exam went today. You know, the one you’ve been stressing over so much lately that you were almost as obsessed with it as you are with volleyball.” 

Oikawa stuck out his lower lip in a pout, though his heart warmed. It wasn’t unlike Iwaizumi to remember all the things Oikawa rambled about, whether they were big or small, but every time he actively brought them up to check in on their status, Oikawa couldn’t help but be further endeared. Oh, how different his life would be if he didn’t have Iwaizumi Hajime. 

“I wouldn’t say I was  _ that  _ bad,” Oikawa replied. 

Iwaizumi now raised the other eyebrow. 

As Iwaizumi let out a grunt of disagreement, Oikawa tore his gaze away to focus on taking off his own shirt, in exchange for a practice one. Rather than meeting Iwaizumi’s accusation, Oikawa merely grumbled, “It was about as hard as I was expecting.” 

“But you passed with flying colors because of all that hard work. Right?” 

Oikawa ignored Iwaizumi’s knowing glance. He raised his chin just a bit and allowed the edges of his lips to curl upward in the beginnings of a smug smile. “It’s possible.” 

Letting out a groan that was bordered with laughter, Iwaizumi shook his head and said, “As expected of Seijou’s captain.” 

The urge to correct Iwaizumi on that– to remind him that, having been defeated by the wretched Karasuno, Oikawa was no longer captain of the team– bubbled up inside Oikawa and scraped at his throat in an effort to be released. But Oikawa knew Iwaizumi’s response would be along the lines of “You’ll always be the captain, Shittykawa” and Oikawa wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to hear that. Especially with the further knowledge that Iwaizumi’s eyes would soften and a fondness would rumble around the corners of his words. It would only cause Oikawa’s chest to tighten. 

After quickly slipping into his practice shorts and tying his shoes, Oikawa straightened and said, “Let’s get to practice, Iwa-chan. I’m sure they’re lost without us.” 

Iwaizumi’s hand halted him in his tracks, pressing against his shoulder. 

“You’re going to trip, dumbass,” he said. When Oikawa’s head listed to the side and he stared quizzically at his friend, Iwaizumi huffed and knelt on the ground. He swiftly tied both of Oikawa’s shoes once more, double-knotting them where Oikawa had merely knotted them once. “Geez, don’t you know how to properly tie your shoes?” 

Oikawa shoved down the warmth that raced from his chest to his cheeks. He offered Iwaizumi a flippant grin and waved his hand in the air. “Don’t need to know. I have you.” 

Standing with a scowl, Iwaizumi turned to the door and moved to leave. 

“I’m not your babysitter  _ or  _ your mom, Trashykawa.” 

Oikawa threw his arm around Iwaizumi’s neck and leaned in close, inhaling the smell of his shampoo, which was the same shampoo he’d been using since before Kitagawa Daiichi. The scent immediately loosened something inside Oikawa, uncoiling whatever tension had built up throughout the day. 

“Whatever you say, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa cooed. 

And though Iwaizumi half-heartedly attempted to shake Oikawa off, Oikawa’s arms remained firmly around him until they reached the gym. The sound of squeaking shoes against the polished floor and the smack of palms against volleyballs greeted the two as Iwaizumi pushed the door open. Once more, Oikawa inhaled, and the scent of the gym nearly did the opposite of Iwaizumi’s scent. While he loved it, every muscle in his body still tensed before relaxing in preparation for a hard, long practice. 

“Look who decided to show up,” Hanamaki drawled. He stood beside Matsukawa, a volleyball held between his wrist and cocked hip. Matching grins split their lips. 

Throwing up a peace sign, Oikawa said, “It’s called being fashionably late.” 

Now Iwaizumi really did try to shake Oikawa off, and Oikawa let him. Though some part of him, deep down, felt disappointed by the sudden lack of contact. Empty, even. It should have been easier for Oikawa to reign in his self-control and fight against the desire to snatch Iwaizumi back in his arms. 

Hanamaki snorted as Oikawa sauntered over, Iwaizumi in tow. His gaze darted to Iwaizumi. 

“You know,” he said to him. “Just because Oikawa’s late doesn’t mean you have to be, too.” 

Iwaizumi shrugged. “I’m his babysitter.” 

Feigning a look of horror, Oikawa playfully slapped Iwaizumi’s arm. “Iwa-chan!” he whined. “I thought you specifically said you  _ weren’t  _ my babysitter!” 

Iwaizumi only glared in response. 

The four quickly fell into the routine of practice, even if they were mainly on their own. Oikawa greeted all his kouhais with smiles and waves, occasionally offering a piece of advice when needed. They all greeted him in the same manner as normal, as if he truly were still a part of the team. Watari with his friendly smile and offer to receive some of Oikawa’s serves. Kindaichi with his nearly shy wave followed by Kunimi’s expressionless hello. Kyoutani with his grudging nod to Oikawa and eyes full of sparkling respect for Iwaizumi. If Oikawa thought about it for too long, his heart began to ache with the knowledge that next year, he wouldn’t be seeing these familiar faces everyday. 

Though they participated in separate drills, the third years were allowed to join their team’s practice matches, whether it was three-on-three or a full six-member game. Every match delighted Oikawa, setting his nerves tingling with a crackling fire. Being able to toss to Iwaizumi over and over again and watch him slam the ball down in the opposing team’s court brought on a high like nothing else. Of course, Coach Mizoguchi sometimes argued that they should be put on separate teams due to their raw power when together. Thankfully Coach Irihata dismissed him by saying their teammates needed the challenge in order to grow. 

Practice ended with one such match, leaving Oikawa glowing with victory. 

“Man, they’re too hard to beat,” Yahaba said, stretching his arms high above his head. 

“Has anyone  _ ever  _ won against those two in a practice match?” Kindaichi asked. 

“Now, now, my dear underclassmen,” Oikawa said, coming up from behind the two and throwing his arms around both their necks. Kindaichi immediately stiffened, caught off guard. Yahaba regarded Oikawa with a smile tugging at his lips. “With enough practice, I’m sure you’ll end up being half as good as Iwa-chan and me by the time you’re third years.” 

“Wow, Oikawa-san, that’s encouraging,” Yahaba replied with mock enthusiasm. 

Grinning wide, Oikawa said, “I know. Aren’t I the best senpai?” 

Before Yahaba could answer, Oikawa’s head pitched forward and he stumbled, his shoulders reaching up toward his ears. A volleyball rebounded off the back of his head and clattered to the floor. Both Yahaba and Kindaichi flinched, as startled as Oikawa. 

Oikawa whirled around, his expression already contorting. 

“Iwa-chan!” he exclaimed. 

Iwaizumi stood across the width of the court, his arms dangling loosely by his side, looking completely innocent as he stared back at Oikawa. It was as if he hadn’t served a ball into the back of Oikawa’s head two seconds ago. He crossed his arms. 

“Someone needed to check your ego.” 

Rubbing the back of his head and sticking out his lower lip, Oikawa said, “That was mean, Iwa-chan.” 

“Please,” Iwaizumi said with a snort, walking towards and then past Oikawa. “That wasn’t even hard enough to leave a mark.” 

“That’s not the problem! It was hard enough to mess up my perfect hair!” Because Iwaizumi was right. The ball had been hit with the perfect amount of pressure to send it sailing across the court to the back of Oikawa’s head without truly hurting him. Even now, as Oikawa combed through his hair and rubbed the sore spot, the pain was subsiding. 

Iwaizumi scoffed. “You put enough product in your hair that nothing makes it look bad.” 

Oikawa protested for the next fifteen minutes as his teammates all drank from their waters and packed up for the day. It was half out of habit and half out of an effort to get Iwaizumi to admit that his hair looked good, product or not. By the time he decided to drop it, nearly everyone had left the gym. Night pressed in on the windows but was kept back by the bright lights filling the space. 

“Are you two staying?” Matsukawa asked from the doorway. 

Without glancing at Iwaizumi for confirmation, Oikawa nodded. 

Matsukawa raised a thick brow and exchanged a look with Hanamaki. “Okay, well. Don’t overwork yourselves, got it?” 

Oikawa flashed him the OK symbol. “Have some faith, Mattsun.” 

“You’re a devil, Oikawa,” Hanamaki interjected. “There is no faith to have.” 

Both Oikawa’s fellow third years ignored his protests and complaints and waved goodbye, disappearing into the night outside. 

“How rude,” Oikawa said, then turned to Iwaizumi. “I’m not a devil, right, Iwa-chan?” 

Iwaizumi’s expression turned doubtful, and he looked up to the ceiling as if deep in thought. “I don’t know, Trashykawa. I think you’ve got a demon in you for sure.” 

And though Oikawa expressed outrage and put on the theatrics at this suggestion, some part of him recoiled from this. The words “demon” and “devil” stationed themselves at the back of his mind all throughout the next hour of continued practice, as he tossed the ball to Iwaizumi for him to spike and served ball after ball over the net.  _ Had  _ a demon inhabited a part of his body? Sure, he believed in aliens a whole lot more than devils and angels, but perhaps a darkness had manifested inside him. Perhaps it had wrapped around his heart and whispered all his feelings for Iwaizumi into being. Perhaps it had coupled those feelings with the repulsion that shuddered through his body at the idea of having sex with his best friend. Perhaps it wanted him to suffer as he longed for Iwaizumi, knowing that even if the feelings were mutual, they wouldn’t last for long before Iwaizumi discovered Oikawa’s aversion to the one thing every teenage boy seemed to want most. 

♔ ♔ ♔

The girl’s hair was pretty. As Oikawa stared at the crown of Akari’s head all he could think was that her hair was pretty.  _ What product does she use? It’s so shiny _ , he thought. 

Carefully, he took the envelope from her outstretched hands. It was a pretty light pink with a heart sticker sealing it together. Typical of a confession. Oikawa pressed his lips into a thin line as Akari straightened, a blush fanning out across her cheeks. With her hands clasped in front of her, she fidgeted a bit, her eyes darting about without ever truly landing on Oikawa. 

“I’ve really admired you for a long time,” she said quietly. 

Oikawa held back the urge to sigh. 

“I hope…” she continued. “I hope you can understand my feelings better through my letter… Oikawa-senpai.” 

Guilt muddied up the waters of Oikawa’s heart as he looked at her, his thoughts churning over the best possible way to politely reject her. He felt bad rejecting her without bothering to open the letter (which he would do, eventually, once safely home, tucked beneath his covers and prepared to let his guilt and all other mixed feelings wash over him. It was the least he could do for her, really), but he needed to get this over with. He didn’t want to give her false hope while she waited a full day for his response to the letter. 

“Listen, Akari-chan. You’re very pretty,” he said, licking his lips out of perhaps nerves. And she was pretty. From her hair to the blush on her cheeks to her cute little black shoes, she was pretty. But that was all Oikawa felt for her and all he ever would. His heart belonged to another. 

Yet Akari’s eyes lit up at the compliment, and Oikawa’s guilt twisted deeper. 

“But I’m not interested in dating right now. I hope you can understand,” Oikawa said. “But I know there’s a guy out there for you. I’m sure of it, with your good looks and kind personality. Take it from me.” Oikawa winked for effect. “I’m sorry I’m not the one.” 

Akari’s whole body seemed to deflate. Her shoulders curved inward, and she cast her gaze to the ground. A light breeze blew by and tangled itself in her silky hair. 

“Oh…” she said. “Okay.” 

Putting on his gentlest smile, the apology shining in his eyes, Oikawa reached out and laid a hand atop her shoulder. For a moment, it seemed as though she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to pull away or lean in closer to the touch. 

“You’re a wonderful girl, Akari. I’m sorry for wasting your time,” Oikawa said once she managed to look up at him. With one last little smile and what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze of her shoulder, Oikawa turned and headed to practice, tucking the pink envelope into his pocket. 

It wasn’t until after practice, huddled outside a convenience store with the other third years, that Oikawa remembered the note stuffed into his clothes. He was so often confessed to that Akari had faded from his mind only minutes after stepping into the gym. Perhaps that was another thing he should feel guilty about. 

Oikawa mindlessly rummaged through his bag in search for it. Hanamaki and Matsukawa were engrossed in a conversation with Iwaizumi about an upcoming film that Oikawa had no interest in (because how could a movie be good if it didn’t have aliens in it?), so it was unlikely they would notice him retrieving the letter. Leaning back in his chair, Oikawa tilted his head to the dusky sky, filled with purples and blues that reached to overtake the last orange rays of sunshine. Makki and Mattsun had convinced Iwaizumi to leave practice earlier than normal in favor of a snack and stop at the convenience store, which meant Oikawa was forced to join them. 

“What is that?” Iwaizumi’s voice cut through Oikawa’s sky-gazing. 

Oikawa looked down at the pink envelope as he twirled it in his hands. Though it rested beneath the table and should have been out of sight from his friends, Iwaizumi’s gaze was locked onto it. 

Plastering on a smile, Oikawa held it up for the three to see. 

“Another love letter for your’s truly,” he said. 

“They never stop, do they?” Matsukawa said. 

“When did that happen?” Hanamaki asked. 

“Today. Before practice.” Oikawa cultured his smile into arrogance. Still holding the envelope up in the air, he spun it around once. At a glance, beneath the dying sunlight, the paper sparkled. Oikawa hadn’t noticed that before. 

“Why are they so interested in a guy with such a shitty personality?” Iwaizumi grumbled. He was still staring at the envelope. Maybe he also found it hard to look away from when it faintly sparkled every time it shifted and caught the light. Or maybe he was jealous. 

Which Oikawa pointed out, acting as if it was something to be jealous of. 

“It’s not his personality,” Hanamaki said before Iwaizumi could growl a reply. “Oikawa, you’re like a sex icon. You have a pretty face–” 

“Pretty waist,” Matsukawa added with a tiny grin. 

Hanamaki nodded sagely. “Right,” he said, and Oikawa tried not to squirm. “They definitely don’t know about your obsessive tendencies and less than savory personality, so I bet they just want to bang you.” 

Oikawa let his jaw drop as he let out a dramatic gasp. “Makki! Why would you say that? I’m the perfect man!” Oikawa brought the letter to his chest with a flourish. “They can see that I have no flaws, regardless of what  _ you  _ all think.” 

And Oikawa wanted to believe that. He really,  _ really  _ wanted to believe that. Even if they only thought he was perfect because he had a pretty face. Even if all the confessions only stemmed from his looks and ability to serve a volleyball. He didn’t want to think of himself as someone who everyone wanted to sleep with, but he couldn’t help but wonder if a sweet, seemingly innocent girl like Akari had wanted that. If, when he’d put his hand on her shoulder, she’d wanted to know what his hand felt like elsewhere. He shuddered at the thought. 

Iwaizumi snorted. “You’re certainly perfect in  _ their  _ eyes. Horny or not.” 

“Exactly,” Oikawa said with a firm nod of his head. “See? Not everything’s about sex.” Oikawa stuck his tongue out at Hanamaki and Matsukawa. 

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re a real asshole in reality,” Iwaizumi said. 

“And it doesn’t change the fact that at least half of them want to sleep with you,” Hanamaki added. 

“Oh, I’d say it’s a good seventy-five perfect,” Matsukawa said. 

Oikawa slumped in his chair. “You’re all so mean. Just accept the fact that I’m the one getting all the love letters, and  _ that’s  _ what bothers you.” 

With one brow raised and a relaxed grin on his face, Matsukawa merely said, “You get enough love letters for us to never want to see another sparkly pink envelope again.” The rest grunted in agreement. 

By the time the four decided it was time to head home, the idea of schoolwork still banished from their minds, the sky had turned a dark navy and stars twinkled to life in its expanse. The night was easily Oikawa’s favorite time of day in his heart of hearts. No matter how much he loved volleyball and the way light filtered into the gym, whether it was during an early morning practice or a midday match, the night and its glimmering stars captured his attention. It stole him away into its swaths of dark and promised him safety while still emptying him into a world of possibilities, a world of unknowns. 

There were also aliens. Alien UFOs were most likely to be spotted at night. 

Iwaizumi was a steady presence beside him. Everyday, they walked to and from school together. It was an infinite perk to being neighbors and a mere three houses away from each other. Oikawa knew he could lose himself while staring up at the sky, because in the off chance that he tripped over some rock, Iwaizumi would be there to catch him. 

But today, it was difficult for Oikawa to lose himself. His thoughts chained him to the ground. Nerves buzzed around inside him and refused to settle. 

Oikawa bit his lip and dared to glance at Iwaizumi, who looked completely unaware of the words bubbling up in Oikawa’s throat. His hands itched for a volleyball, to toss or serve it. To do something to distract from how he wasn’t exactly sure he even  _ wanted  _ to say what was about to come out. But then, against his better judgement, his mouth moved on its own accord and the words slipped between his teeth. 

“You know I’m a virgin, right?” 

Iwaizumi nearly tripped. His eyes widened slightly, and he turned to look at Oikawa with his mouth hanging open. Oikawa’s entire body tensed, even as he tried to appear nonchalant. 

Ever the stoic, Iwaizumi’s surprise wilted away within seconds. He let out a thoughtful grunt, which Oikawa recognized as something only Iwaizumi seemed to be able to accomplish. Oikawa’s heart pattered inside his chest, though he told it to be quiet. He’d been less nervous the second time they’d faced off Shiratorizawa. 

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Iwaizumi said. “You’ve never talked about it before, which is odd since it’s something I know you’d brag about–” 

“Hey!” Oikawa was tempted to smack his best friend in the arm. 

“Don’t even try to deny it, Shittykawa. Anyone you knows you well enough knows that you’d go on and on about how some girl gushed about how good you were. We’d never hear the end of it. And your fanclub–” Iwaizumi shook his head, letting out a little laugh that Oikawa couldn’t decipher. “They’d be  _ begging  _ for a chance with you in bed.” 

In an attempt to diffuse the uneasiness that roiled in his stomach, Oikawa said, “Sounds like you’re confident in my skills.” This comment, however, didn’t seem to land quite where Oikawa wanted it to, though he tried for that lopsided grin his fanclub adored. 

Iwaizumi only proved Oikawa’s doubt when he stilled. Not enough to stop walking, but not for so short a time that Oikawa didn’t notice. Oikawa  _ always  _ noticed. Every little thing that anyone did, but especially Iwaizumi. His brain didn’t seem to know how to turn off the instinct to observe. Except it was an instinct Oikawa had taught himself, so could it even be counted as one? 

“This is all hypothetical, Assikawa,” Iwaizumi said, letting out a strange cough as if to cover it up. 

“What about you, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked, desperate to steer the conversation away from him and his nonexistent sex life. “Are _you_ a virgin?” 

Dropping his gaze, Iwaizumi scuffed the road. “I’m not answering that.” 

“Iwa-chan! That’s not fair!” Oikawa cried. “We’re best friends! You  _ have  _ to tell me if you’re not a virgin. I told you in the first place!” 

“Yeah, and I didn’t ask. You didn’t  _ have  _ to tell me.” 

Indignation coursed through Oikawa and shone on his face. It mingled with another emotion, though. Perhaps hope. Perhaps fear. Hope that if Iwaizumi was a virgin like him, it was possible he would be able to understand how Oikawa felt about sex. Fear that if Iwaizumi  _ wasn’t,  _ his expectations and desire would skyrocket in the face of a relationship with Oikawa. Fear that if Iwaizumi wasn’t, he would leave Oikawa behind. That he was already leaving Oikawa behind. 

Oikawa wanted to smother his affection for his best friend. He wanted to drown it, to choke it, to do anything to make it go away. But he’d tried before. He’d tried more times than he could count, and at this point, there was no hope of killing it. 

“This is unjust. This is a betrayal! I mean really, Iwa-chan, we’re  _ best friends _ . I expect you to tell me if–” 

“I’m not.” Iwaizumi’s steady voice sliced through Oikawa’s wails. The sky above seemed to tilt as Oikawa squeaked out a quiet “what?” to make sure he’d heard right. Maybe he meant he wasn’t Oikawa’s best friend, which Oikawa could live with, since he knew Iwaizumi was only joking and–

“I’m not a virgin,” Iwaizumi said without looking at Oikawa. “Happy?”

No. Oikawa Tooru was far from happy. 

Yet Oikawa mustered up all the enthusiasm and indignation he could and practically screeched, “ _ Iwa-chan! _ ” Then, realizing he should probably tone it down, he lowered his voice and lowered his lids and stretched a smile across his lips. “Wow, Iwa-chan. Were you any good? I can’t  _ believe  _ you’ve done it before me. I mean, what girl would pick you over  _ me? _ ” 

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He let out a huff of air. If Oikawa strained, he could almost imagine a blush on Iwaizumi’s cheeks. 

“I’ve only done it once. And it was a year ago.” 

Oikawa’s brain halted, causing all his thoughts to crash into each other and tumble together. “A  _ year  _ ago? Do Makki and Mattsun know?” 

Iwaizumi shook his head, still dead set on ignoring Oikawa’s staring. “Just you.” 

This, at least, triggered some relief. Oikawa didn’t know what he would have done or how he would have reacted if his two other best friends had known before him– Iwaizumi’s  _ childhood  _ best friend who he had always shared his secrets with. It would have felt like Oikawa’s world was in a never-ending cycle of collapse. Which was how it felt most days, anyway, but that was besides the point. 

“Well, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said. “I must say I’m offended you didn’t tell me earlier, but I’m less offended knowing you haven’t told anyone else. Why didn’t you ever mention it?” 

As Oikawa snuck a glance at Iwaizumi, he noticed the reddening at the tips of his ears. This blush was one Oikawa knew he wasn’t imagining. He also knew he wasn’t imagining the stiff way in which Iwaizumi shrugged, as if weights were attached to his arms. 

“It wasn’t important…” Iwaizumi mumbled. 

Hope, clear and pure, sparked in Oikawa’s chest. 

“She didn’t– we didn’t–” Iwaizumi stumbled over his words, and Oikawa could nearly see the frustration growing on his face. His dark eyes darted over to Oikawa. His shoulders dropped. “It didn’t mean anything to me.” 

For a moment, Oikawa’s face screwed up in confusion, and for the first time in a very long time, he couldn’t find the right thing to say. Normally, his charm overtook any awkward or abnormal situation and that, along with years of practice, made it easy for him to form the right words at the right time. But Oikawa was at a loss. 

He tipped his head back to the sky and focused on the glowing, red-tinted orb that he knew was Mars. 

“Was she not pretty enough?” Oikawa let the words flow between his lips and kept his gaze locked on Mars. It was a whole lot easier to talk about this without worrying about saying something weird when he felt the night sky reach out its arms to embrace him. 

The change in Oikawa’s tone– the obvious relaxation– spread into Iwaizumi’s response. 

“That wasn’t it,” he said. “We just didn’t… match.” 

Oikawa closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of the night. When he opened his eyes, he found himself relaxed enough to look at Iwaizumi. And he asked another question. Because this was the one subject that he had never talked about with Iwaizumi. This was the one area in which he was unsure of his friend’s thoughts. 

“Why didn’t you try with someone else?” 

Iwaizumi shot Oikawa a look that could’ve been a glare. Oikawa smiled innocently, trying to play it off. 

“Why didn’t  _ you _ ,” Iwaizumi shot back. Any pretense of Oikawa’s relaxation was destroyed. His smile dropped much quicker than he would’ve liked as his heartbeat picked up and his muscles tensed. 

“Fair enough, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said. But it didn’t seem fair. 

♔ ♔ ♔

The days of the week strung together in a blur of class and volleyball, which wasn’t highly unusual. The only thing that differentiated the days was the pain growing in Oikawa’s knee. After losing to Karasuno, Oikawa, as well as the other third years, had taken time off to focus on school and give themselves a break physically. During that time, Oikawa’s knee had settled, and taking care of it had been the only thing keeping him from the gym– that and Iwaizumi’s constant nagging about how he wouldn’t be able to play volleyball in university if his knee got any worse. 

Oikawa had thought he had fixed it. A good rest and lots of icing. It had been a foolish, naive thought, but he’d had it anyway. And by the time Friday rolled around, pain resonated in his knee with every step. 

Of course, he ignored it, swallowed some pain medicine, and headed to practice. But when he reached the entrance to the gym, Iwaizumi stood blocking his path. He folded his arms across his chest, his muscles straining the fabric of his uniform, and stared Oikawa down. 

_ Odd,  _ Oikawa thought.  _ He hasn’t changed yet.  _

“Iwa-chan? Why aren’t you changed?” he asked. 

The space between Iwaizumi’s eyebrows creased, his expression growing more and more stern with every second that ticked by. 

“I’m not going to practice,” Iwaizumi said. “And neither are you.” 

Where Oikawa had begun to frown, his lips rapidly changed course and split into a grin as he let out a laugh. “Oh, Iwa-chan, don’t try to be funny. Comedy is natural.” 

Oikawa stepped forward, prepared to breeze right by Iwaizumi and into the gym, but Iwaizumi shifted into Oikawa’s path. His hand bumped against Oikawa’s chest as he held it out. Glancing down at it, Oikawa frowned once more. He had a sneaking suspicion he knew what this was all about. 

“I’m fine,” he told Iwaizumi. His voice was firm, no hint of a whine or groan. 

Gently, Iwaizumi pushed Oikawa’s chest, so that Oikawa rocked back on his heels, swaying like tall grass in an open prairie. The simple action caused a twinge of pain in his knee. 

“You’ve been limping around all day,” Iwaizumi said. And because Oikawa no longer had to protect his pride to make it to the next match, he scowled. There was no getting around Iwaizumi, especially with his dark gaze trained on Oikawa and his mouth set in a way that told Oikawa just how futile it would be to protest. “You’re taking a day off.” 

“I don’t need a day off,” Oikawa said, knocking Iwaizumi’s hand away. Iwaizumi caught his wrist between his strong fingers. His touch had always been warm and his hands had always been calloused and even with the resolve in his eyes to drag Oikawa away from the gym if he had to, Oikawa couldn’t help but notice those details. 

“We’re going home, Shittykawa.” Still latched onto Oikawa’s wrist, Iwaizumi walked past him and back in the direction of the clubhouse. Rather than complain or rip his hand free, Oikawa stumbled along behind him and glared at his broad shoulders. 

On the way home, Oikawa walked extra slow. He told himself that it wasn’t the pain in his knee (which was acting up despite the pain killers) but the frustration at not being able to practice. At being forced to retreat to his home when the sun was still out. Iwaizumi matched his pace and said nothing of it, though from time to time, Oikawa felt his gaze darting to him. 

Oikawa was so lost in his thoughts, in his frustration, in the aching pain, that he nearly missed the plastic monstrosity located in the park to his left. He gasped. His hand flung out to stop Iwaizumi. 

“Iwa-chan, the playground!” 

Before Iwaizumi could finish rolling his eyes, Oikawa was dragging him towards the set of swings just beyond the jungle gym. A smile lit his face, and a childish joy sparkled in his eyes. “We’re swinging!” 

“What are you– five?” Iwaizumi said, letting Oikawa lead him through the mulch exactly as Oikawa had let him be led back to the clubhouse. 

“Come on, Iwa-chan. Don’t be mean. We all know you’re mentally three.” Oikawa dropped into one of the swings and beamed up at Iwaizumi. 

Grumbling under his breath, Iwaizumi sat in the swing beside Oikawa. 

Immediately, Oikawa pushed off the ground and began to swing. The wind ruffled his hair and slipped beneath his clothes, cooling his body against the setting sun. He didn’t care if Iwaizumi was swinging or not– though in the corner of his eye he saw Iwaizumi swaying with his feet still planted on the ground. He was happy to use this as an excuse. An excuse to take longer getting home and an excuse to spend more time with Iwaizumi. 

“Isn’t this great, Iwa-chan?” he said, after a beat of silence that was filled only by the creaking of the swings. “We used to come here all the time.” 

“And you would force me to run around chasing butterflies,” Iwaizumi scoffed. 

Oikawa glanced down at him, still smiling. “You loved the fireflies, though.” 

“Who doesn’t like fireflies?” 

“My sister,” Oikawa said with a small laugh. “She thought they were creepy.” A point that Oikawa had argued against for nearly two months when he was eight. His mother had eventually told him to drop it, but sometimes, Oikawa’s thoughts drifted to those arguments. Fireflies added to the magic of the night. How could anyone think they were  _ creepy?  _

A chuckle rumbled up from Iwaizumi. “I remember that.” 

There was a pause and then, “You can say if you’re not fine.” Oikawa’s heels skid across the ground as he slowed his swinging. Iwaizumi continued, “You know… If you’re not okay about it hurting. Your knee, I mean. If it’s hard.” 

Coming to a stop, Oikawa stared at Iwaizumi, who was staring at the ground. 

“I’m fine,” Oikawa said, perhaps a bit more forcefully than necessary. 

A flash of annoyance mixed with Iwaizumi’s concern, and he looked up at Oikawa to glare. But it seemed he didn’t mean it, and it suddenly melted away, replaced with a furrowed brow and softened eyes. Oikawa’s stomach fluttered. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the way Iwaizumi was looking at him. 

“You’re not,” Iwaizumi said firmly. “I know you’re not, and if you don’t want to admit it, that’s fine. I can’t make you, but… but I don’t like seeing you hurt.” 

Silence stretched between them. 

Fondness sunk its claws into Oikawa’s chest and twisted up his heart. But his brain short-circuited, and he didn’t understand how to react or even process the look in Iwaizumi’s eyes, so he settled for what he did best: Joking the tension away. 

“Yeah, yeah, Iwa-chan. You’re such a worrywart,” Oikawa said with a teasing smile. “You’re my mom, remember? Or, wait, my babysitter.” 

Iwaizumi frowned, and Oikawa’s pulse stuttered. That hadn’t worked. 

Emphatic, Iwaizumi said, “ _ No,  _ Trashykawa. I don’t care about you in a  _ motherly  _ way.” 

Oikawa’s heart raced. It really didn’t seem fair. Maybe Iwaizumi was just trying to make him feel better because of his knee. Maybe he was tired of all the mom jokes and wanted to be appreciated for how good of a friend he was. Whatever it was, Oikawa didn’t think it was fair that he was toying with his heart this way. 

Despite his better judgements, Oikawa couldn’t help but ask. 

“Then in what way do you care about me?” he said, trying to keep his voice light, casual. “Is this brotherly love? Iwa-chan, you know I have Takeru-chan. I don’t need someone to love me in that way.” 

He needed someone to love him for who he was. Obsessive tendencies and hesitancy in intimacy and all. And though Iwaizumi was the closest person to ever love him that way, to accept that he had a shitty personality and still care for him, Oikawa wasn’t sure if Iwaizumi could accept  _ all  _ the bits and pieces of him that Oikawa himself sometimes couldn’t accept. 

Oikawa tried not to look too desperate as he watched Iwaizumi roll his eyes and scuff the ground. 

“You’re impossible, you know that?” he said. 

Oikawa could only reply with a tight-lipped grin. The weight of his question sat too heavily on his chest for him to function properly. Iwaizumi sighed, and Oikawa tensed. 

“But no,” Iwaizumi continued. “It’s not… like that.” 

A high-pitched, nervous laugh escaped Oikawa when Iwaizumi’s pause went on for too long. 

“You’re acting weird, Iwa-chan. In what way do you care about me?” 

Oikawa silently cursed himself. He should have dropped it. He should have laughed it off and moved on to a different subject. Iwaizumi wasn’t going to give him the answer he wanted.  _ Why  _ did he have to make things difficult–

Something burned in Iwaizumi’s dark eyes. Some hidden promise, both to himself and to Oikawa. To this moment. It was a determined look, yet it was so different from the determination he had during matches. It was a look Oikawa had never seen before, and as a result, it grated against Oikawa’s nerves. His heart leapt to his throat. All thoughts eddied away. 

“You’re going to laugh at me. I know you will. But we don’t have that much time left together, so… Try to be serious, okay?” Iwaizumi said. 

Oikawa swallowed and nodded. Iwaizumi inhaled deeply. 

“I like you, Tooru. I care about you because for some reason, despite your shittiness and your god awful whining, I like you. A lot.” 

Light hit the edge of the swing set and shone bright against Oikawa’s eyes. He blinked. His heart swelled. Surely he couldn’t be hearing right? The only thing that could have made this moment more complete, that could have settled it right beside Oikawa’s bones, as the two sat on the swings from their childhood, would have been the night. If the stars had been winking down at them from their homes, nestled against the dark sky. 

Turning his burning gaze to the ground, Iwaizumi said, “Happy?” 

Yes. Oikawa was. 

A grin broke out across his face, and all of his fears, all of his doubts, melted away for this one moment. Relief flooded his chest, surging beside his happiness. 

“As a matter of fact, Iwa-chan, I am incredibly happy,” Oikawa said, raising his chin and peeking down at his friend. “Because  _ I  _ like  _ you _ , Iwa-chan. Despite your grumpiness.” 

Iwaizumi whipped his head up, wide-eyed. 

“You– What? Shittykawa, if this is some sort of sick joke–” 

Oikawa let out a noise of exasperation, slumping forward. “Iwa-chan.  _ Hajime _ . I like you. As surprising as it may be for someone to like your hedgehog hair, it’s the truth.” 

Iwaizumi’s lips twisted in a way that suggested he couldn’t decide whether to smile or frown. In the end, the smile won over, and his eyes glittered. Oikawa felt even happier knowing that he was the cause of that look. 

“Then can I… kiss you?” Iwaizumi asked. His eyes trailed to Oikawa’s mouth. 

Oikawa’s throat dried, and his heart beat suddenly ten times louder. Because he found it too hard to speak, he nodded. Once. Nerves flooded his system. 

Iwaizumi’s mouth quirked, his expression serious, and then he leaned in, scooting his swing closer to reach. His mouth was warm. His lips were smooth. He pressed them against Oikawa’s in the barest of kisses, and Oikawa clutched the chains of his swing hard enough that his knuckles turned white. It was a nice kiss. A small kiss. Even if Oikawa could barely kiss back, too afraid of the way electricity sparked from his lips. 

It occurred to him, as Iwaizumi pulled away with his eyes still trained on Oikawa’s mouth, that maybe Oikawa liked kissing. He was suddenly curious about how the inside of Iwaizumi’s mouth tasted. 

They both smiled, shyly, hesitantly. 

“This feels like a dream,” Iwaizumi said after a moment. “But it’s… natural.” 

“It’s a natural progression, Iwa-chan. It’s evolution. The way… the way things are supposed to be. I think,” Oikawa said. 

It was the way things were supposed to be in Oikawa’s mind. Though he had never thought he would get to this point because he hadn’t dared to let himself think Iwaizumi liked him. But his friend, now something more, who had always been more, was right. It  _ was  _ natural. Sitting on the swings and confessing to each other, and kissing, felt comfortable. Like the natural course of action. 

Iwaizumi stood and extended his hand out towards Oikawa. 

“It does kind of feel like the world is righting itself, doesn’t it?” he said. 

Clasping Iwaizumi’s hand, Oikawa planted his feet on the ground and let himself be pulled up. “That’s romantic, Iwa-chan.” 

Iwaizumi rubbed the back of his neck and flashed Oikawa an almost self-conscious smile. Oikawa softened. 

“Let’s go home, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi said, tugging Oikawa away from the swings. 

“Don’t you think you could come up with a cuter pet name?” Oikawa said. 

Iwaizumi didn’t hesitate in his response

“No.” 

Oikawa laughed and found that he was okay with that. Because his heart was full, and as they walked home, Oikawa swung their hands together like a kid. He could ignore the pain occasionally flaring in his knee and the nagging thoughts in the back of his head about how Iwaizumi probably wanted  _ more  _ than a little kiss and hands held together, because that evening, as the sky turned to dusk and the sun dipped beneath the horizon, there were no expectations. Oikawa wanted it to stay that way forever. 

♔ ♔ ♔

Saturday afternoon brought a new bout of pain in Oikawa’s knee and Iwaizumi Hajime standing at his door with milk bread in hand. Before he let his feelings from the day before rush back, Oikawa threw himself at Iwaizumi, looping his arms around his neck. 

“Iwa-chan!” he cried. “How did you know I was in need?” 

Iwaizumi’s free hand hovered above Oikawa’s back before landing there, and he shuffled inside with Oikawa hanging off him. 

“Call it instinct,” he grumbled. 

Pulling back from Iwaizumi’s neck, Oikawa grinned and said, “I could kiss you, Iwa-chan!” 

Red colored Iwaizumi’s cheeks. Oikawa paused and swallowed, realizing what he’d just said. It was something he’d said before, at least twice by now. But it had always been a joke. A joke tied to Oikawa’s feelings, but a joke all the same. 

Oikawa leaned in and pecked Iwaizumi’s warming cheek. 

“And now I guess I can,” he said. He heard Iwaizumi’s breath hitch and saw the goosebumps rise across his skin. Some part of him reveled in Iwaizumi’s reaction, while another part whispered that, eventually, it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy. 

As Oikawa whirled away from Iwaizumi, taking the milk bread with him, Iwaizumi collected himself and asked, “So your knee really is hurting?” 

Oikawa waved his hand through the air. “Nothing milk bread can’t fix.” 

Iwaizumi waited until Oikawa turned around to reply. He crossed his arms and cocked his hip against the kitchen counter. Oikawa mimicked his pose, if only to take some of the pressure off his knee. 

“How bad is it?” Iwaizumi asked. “I actually thought you might be better today.” 

“Then why’d you come over?” Oikawa teased, ignoring the question. Iwaizumi’s eyes flashed, and Oikawa nearly squinted to try and figure out what that meant. 

“Don’t change the subject. I brought you milk bread.” 

“That you did, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said with a wide smile. “And I am eternally grateful. Now, come upstairs. We can play games.” 

For the next forty-five minutes, Oikawa ignored all of Iwaizumi’s attempts to determine the exact level of pain in his knee– as well as all the glances Iwaizumi stole in his direction. As they both focused their attention on the screen of the tv and Oikawa repeatedly fell to his tiny character’s death, Oikawa screeched and flailed and sank into the familiarity of playing a game with Iwaizumi in his room. But upon Oikawa’s fiftieth time watching his character wail and turn to bones, he had had enough. 

“Let me toss to you, Iwa-chan,” he said, setting down his controller. 

Iwaizumi snorted. “Like hell, Shittykawa.” 

“Iwa-chan, please!” Oikawa whined. He leaned in close, practically shoving his face into Iwaizumi’s. He batted his eyelashes rapidly, trying to ignore the way his heart fluttered when the scent of Iwaizumi’s shampoo drifted toward him. 

Iwaizumi lifted his hand, but before it could reach its destination, he let it fall back down. 

“It’s Saturday. I’m not letting you overwork yourself, especially with your knee hurting,” he said. “Which, by the way, definitely hurts way more than you’re letting on. You keep moving around and rubbing it.” 

Oikawa frowned and sat back on his heels. His hand moved to cover said knee, and he curled his fingers into a fist to stop himself. 

“I don’t have to move much to toss to you,” he grumbled. 

Mirroring Oikawa’s frown and turning his head slightly to face Oikawa, Iwaizumi’s gaze flicked down to Oikawa’s lips. 

Softly, his deep voice slipping past Oikawa’s defenses, he said, “I know something else we can do.” He didn’t stop staring at Oikawa’s mouth, and it seemed his eyes followed the movement of Oikawa’s adam’s apple as he swallowed thickly. 

“Like what?” Oikawa breathed. 

“Like this…” And Iwaizumi pressed his lips against Oikawa’s for the second time in two days. Though Oikawa knew it was coming, his heart still hammered, and he was still slow to respond. His lips were tentative compared to Iwaizumi’s, unsure. He felt like he couldn’t breathe when Iwaizumi pulled away. 

“Is this okay?” Iwaizumi whispered. 

Oikawa’s heart skipped a beat. Something inside him softened, and though he couldn’t seem to release the tension in his shoulders, at least his stomach stopped churning. Because Iwaizumi had asked. Iwaizumi had asked and because he had asked, there was no way Oikawa could say no. Not that he wasn’t okay. Not that  _ kissing  _ Iwaizumi wasn’t okay. Oikawa’s eyes trailed to Iwaizumi’s lips. It was okay because Oikawa found he  _ wanted  _ to kiss Iwaizumi. 

He murmured a “yes,” and Iwaizumi’s lips were on his again. Gentle and slow and warm. Oikawa closed his eyes and relished in the feeling of them. He let Iwaizumi part his lips and slip his tongue into his mouth. The ground fell away beneath them, and Oikawa felt like he was floating. He felt like there was only Iwaizumi and his lips. Only Iwaizumi’s hand wrapping around Oikawa’s torso and resting on his back as he lowered Oikawa to the floor. Only Oikawa’s fingers lacing through his surprisingly soft hair. Only Iwaizumi suddenly kissing Oikawa like he would die if he stopped. 

Heat pooled into Oikawa’s core. Iwaizumi rolled his hips into Oikawa’s. 

Reality came crashing back. The ground came rising back up, and the haze that had fallen over Oikawa’s thoughts broke. He squeezed his eyes shut and pushed lightly on Iwaizumi’s chest. Panic squeezed his own chest. 

Iwaizumi’s brow furrowed as he stared down at Oikawa. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

“Nothing,” Oikawa lied. His lips felt strange without Iwaizumi’s. His gaze slid past Iwaizumi and to the model spaceship sitting atop his dresser. Red covered his cheeks in guilt and shame. “I’m just… really hungry. Been thinking about that milk bread.” 

Iwaizumi stared at him dubiously, and Oikawa cracked a sheepish smile. 

After a moment, Iwaizumi released a breath. Slowly shaking his head, he crawled off Oikawa and said, “You’re unbelievable, Shittykawa. Let’s go get you some milk bread.” 

Oikawa knew he was being unfair. He was being selfish. But hadn’t he always been those things? He’d always wanted to win, and his greed to go to Nationals had gotten him hurt. It was always himself he ended up hurting with his selfish tendencies. Except now… now there was a possibility he was hurting Iwaizumi, too. 

As Oikawa led Iwaizumi downstairs, he held his hand, their fingers linked together. He hoped Iwaizumi wouldn’t notice how clammy his hands were or how he winced when he bounded down the stairs a little too fast, pain twinging in his knee. But the pain was secondary to the nerves and guilt and cowardice. 

Oikawa tore into the bread without hesitation. Part of it was to convey just how “hungry” he was, and part of it was to avoid looking at Iwaizumi, who was giving him a wary look that dared to ask what was wrong with him when Iwaizumi couldn’t say it. 

“You sure are something else, Tooru.” 

Oikawa’s stomach flipped at the use of his first name. His lips quirked up. 

“Be careful what you say, Iwa-chan,” he said. “I don’t want you to find out about my origin on Mars too early in our relationship.” 

“I think this would be considered incredibly late in our relationship.” 

Chomping down on another bite of milk bread, Oikawa considered this. 

“I suppose you’re right, Iwa-chan. Does that mean you knew I was an alien?” 

And perhaps, instead of a demon curling up inside Oikawa, it had been an alien that had taken hold of his body. Surely, aliens didn’t know about the norms of Earth’s society, regardless that Oikawa had been there for eighteen years. In the grand scheme of things, eighteen years wasn’t all that long. Alien Oikawa simply hadn’t had long enough to adjust to a human body and reorder its needs. Its wants. 

The thought didn’t help to quell the stress ricocheting off his bones. 

Iwaizumi shrugged. “You’ve always been a little weird.” 

Oikawa’s mouth dropped in mock offense. A bit of relief piled on top of his stress at being able to fall into this familiar routine. 

“But I’ve worked so hard to be normal, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa cried. 

A smirk curled Iwaizumi’s lips. “Not hard enough.” 

“And what about you?  _ You’re _ not exactly normal.” Oikawa pointed an accusatory finger at Iwaizumi. “You have a Godzilla poster in your room!” 

“That’s not nearly as bad as all your alien shit,” Iwaizumi shot back, crossing his arms in defense. Oikawa stuck out his tongue. 

“You’re just jealous because you  _ wish  _ you had half the amount of ‘alien shit’ I have!” 

“As if.” But Iwaizumi was grinning. 

The banter went back and forth until Oikawa had swallowed the rest of his milk bread. In all honesty, he felt a bit sad as he tossed the wrapper in the trash. He would’ve liked to save it for a little longer, but in his reluctance to head back upstairs, he’d stalled by eating it all. 

Iwaizumi cleared his throat, drawing Oikawa’s attention to him. 

“So… are we telling Makki and Mattsun about…” He gestured between them. “Us?” 

Oikawa’s stomach sank, and his heart lurched to a start. Makki and Mattsun were his best friends.  _ Their  _ best friends. He should have been excited to tell them about his and Iwaizumi’s budding relationship. Really, with the way Oikawa acted, he should have been  _ ecstatic.  _ But the idea scared him. He didn’t want any prying hands digging for information on their relationship. For at least a little longer, he wanted to be able to keep this to himself, until Iwaizumi began to rethink the whole thing in light of Oikawa not giving him what he had to want. 

Scrunching up his face, Oikawa looked up at the ceiling, pretending to give the question more thought than it was worth. The answer should have been a resounding yes.

“They can wait,” Oikawa said as his mouth twisted into a smile. “I want you all to myself, Iwa-chan.” 

Iwaizumi raised a brow. “You’ve always had me to yourself, haven’t you?” 

“Not like this,” Oikawa said, batting his eyelashes. 

A smile pulled at the edge of Iwaizumi’s lips, and his shoulders relaxed. Two tells that signaled to Oikawa that Iwaizumi was pleased with this answer. Oikawa couldn’t help but grin. Seeing those nearly hidden looks made him undeniably happy. And they were reserved for him. They were always only for him. 

“Well,” Iwaizumi said. He walked over and wrapped his arms around Oikawa’s waist, tugging him close so that their chests bumped. Though only an inch separated them in height, Oikawa was still startled by how he was forced to look down. He prayed Iwaizumi couldn’t hear the way his heartbeat picked up erratically. 

Leaning in, Iwaizumi said, “I can’t argue with that.” 

He planted a kiss on Oikawa’s lips. Oikawa kissed him back, and then he was falling into Iwaizumi’s lips and wondering how he could feel so safe and normal in Iwaizumi’s arms and still worry that he wasn’t good enough to be held by them.


	2. Chapter 2

It took a week to tell Hanamaki and Matsukawa. A week of sneaking touches and gazing at each other with affection that was all more obvious than usual. Everytime Iwaizumi held Oikawa’s gaze and stared at him like he was the brightest star in the sky, Oikawa’s stomach roiled. 

Throughout the week, Hanamaki and Matsukawa kept sharing knowing looks. Specifically after instances like when Iwaizumi held Oikawa’s hand to drag him to take a water break or when Oikawa brushed his lips against Iwaizumi’s ear as he whispered some mindless gossip at lunch, turning Iwaizumi’s cheeks tomato red. But they weren’t the ones to prompt the confession. It was Iwaizumi, who decided it was too hard to actively not tell them since it meant he couldn’t grab and kiss Oikawa whenever he wanted. 

Iwaizumi cleared his throat. With Oikawa by his side, the two sat across from their fellow third years in Iwaizumi’s classroom during their lunch break. 

“We have something to tell you…” he said. 

Matsukawa glanced between the two. “As in you and Oikawa?” 

Iwaizumi nodded and beneath the desk, his fingers brushed against Oikawa’s thigh. The touch sent a shiver up Oikawa’s spine, and he couldn’t determine whether it was a good shiver or a bad one. 

“We’re…” Iwaizumi looked to Oikawa. “We’re dating.” 

The effect was lackluster. The words landing flat on the desks between them. The air hummed around Oikawa, possibly a result of his own nerves tingling. 

It was Hanamaki who reacted first, shifting his gaze from the couple to Matsukawa and raising a brow as his lips curved into a sly grin. He inclined his head to Matsukawa, who, in a matter of seconds, returned the look. As one, they both turned back to look at Iwaizumi and Oikawa and nodded. 

“You two couldn’t have been anymore obvious,” Hanamaki said. 

Oikawa bristled before Matsukawa offered, “Congrats, guys.” 

Beside him, Iwaizumi’s shoulders relaxed, and he dropped his hand onto Oikawa’s thigh. The added warmth, seeping into his skin through his pants, caused Oikawa to reach up and tug at the tight neck of his collar. 

“So you’re not surprised? At all?” Iwaizumi asked. He stared at the two skeptically. 

“Dude,” Matsukawa said. “You two are literally attached at the hip. To be honest, I’m a little surprised you haven’t been dating all this time.” 

Relief unfurled in Oikawa’s chest and uncoiled all the bottled up tension. Truly, he shouldn’t have been so worried. What had there been to worry about? With Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s approval, it suddenly felt silly to have been a cluster of nerves. Rather dramatically, Oikawa stretched his arms high and then draped one across Iwaizumi’s shoulders. 

“ _ Well _ , I must agree with you on that,” Oikawa drawled. “It’s impossible for even Iwa-chan to resist my charms. Especially after having been exposed to them for so many years.” He threw in a wink, which somehow inflated his confidence back to its normal facade. 

“Humble until the end,” Matsukawa said. 

“Annoyingly so,” Iwaizumi added, though he didn’t shake Oikawa’s arm off and instead squeezed Oikawa’s thigh once. There was a hint of amusement in his words. 

“So how long has this been going on? And, please, no details,” Hanamaki said. 

“No details?” Oikawa exclaimed. “But you know I’m so good with details, Makki-chan.” 

Hanamaki made a gagging noise, and Matsukawa stifled his laugh. The longer their relationship was out in the open, diffusing away into the air, the more at ease Oikawa felt. Slipping into this banter was so normal that he didn’t mind making jokes about how intimate he had been with Iwaizumi. 

“For the love of all that is good,  _ please  _ no details, and keep the PDA to a minimum. I swear, I better not walk into the clubroom to find you two fucking.” 

Oikawa’s mouth dropped. Horror spread across his face. 

“Makki!” he nearly screeched. 

Iwaizumi choked on thin air. One quick glance in his direction showed his ears reddening. Hanamaki and Matsukawa looked eternally pleased for whatever godawful reason Oikawa couldn’t understand. 

Hanamaki scoffed. “Why do you both look as if it could never happen?” 

“Because it never  _ will! _ ” Oikawa said. 

The very thought had Oikawa recoiling from Iwaizumi’s touch on his thigh. In his outburst, Oikawa had thrown his hands up in the air and wasn’t exactly inclined to resettle his arm around Iwaizumi. However, he was now unsure of where to put his hands. In his mind, it took a second too long for him to lay them down on the desk, curling his fingers into fists. 

Rolling his eyes, Matsukawa said, “Are you really too decent to do it in public, Oikawa? I would’ve pegged Iwaizumi for more of the type to avoid it.” 

“And what does  _ that  _ mean?” Oikawa said, his voice much too shrill for his liking. “Think of my sweet underclassmen!” 

“Five bucks says Kyouken-chan and Yahaba have banged in the clubroom.” 

Oikawa gasped. And without his permission, images of the two sweating and panting– and  _ not  _ because of practice– crowded his mind. He couldn’t decide which was worse. Imagining his underclassmen doing  _ that  _ in the locker room or imagining him and Iwaizumi doing it. 

“Mattsun, please! Don’t say things like that!” 

Iwaizumi regarded Oikawa out of the corner of his eye, strangely quiet. 

“Do you really think no one has, Oikawa?” he asked. 

Oikawa stilled. Everything in him was wound up again, and all of it was now directed at Iwaizumi. But he had to keep cool. He had to keep  _ normal.  _ Keep up this charade of overacting so that none of them could tell exactly how opposed he was to this whole concept. 

Even if he felt caught off guard at Iwaizumi actually using his name rather than an insult. 

“I know someone has to have in the past,” Oikawa said, admittedly a bit defensively. “But not our underclassmen! They’re so young, Iwa-chan. Like our kids!” 

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “They’re sixteen and seventeen. What do you expect?”

Letting out a huff, Oikawa crossed his arms and said, “Some basic decency at the very least.” 

“Man, Oikawa,” Hanamaki said with a little shake of his head. “Have you ever let yourself be a teenager for  _ one day _ ?” 

Oikawa glared. “I’m not an animal.” 

“And neither are our underclassmen,” Iwaizumi said. 

“I never said that!” Oikawa cried. He felt tempted to knock Iwaizumi’s hand away, which was still providing steady warmth on his leg. 

The three all wore grins, hiding their laughter at Oikawa’s overreaction. But as Oikawa dared to look at Iwaizumi, maybe in confirmation that he had never said that or meant to suggest it, his brows were furrowed slightly. Angled up in a curious manner, his eyes already on Oikawa as he turned. 

“Relax, Shittykawa,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “It’s a joke.” 

“I know it’s a joke,” Oikawa muttered. He felt quieted by the look in Iwaizumi’s eyes. 

But he ignored it and he ignored Iwaizumi’s hand, even when he squeezed Oikawa’s thigh and rubbed his hand up and down in a motion that was meant to soothe but only frayed Oikawa’s nerves. He focused on the fact that Hanamaki and Matsukawa seemed genuinely pleased by their tentative relationship. He focused on the fact that Iwaizumi seemed happier now that he didn’t have to hide all the little touches he initiated. Oikawa tried to let all the positives gather in his own attitude, and soon enough, he was smiling and laughing with the rest of them. 

♔ ♔ ♔

It didn’t take long for the rest of the Aoba Johsai Volleyball Club to learn of Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s relationship. Blame it on Hanamaki or Matsukawa or Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s outright affection for each other. It didn’t matter how they knew, only that they all somehow ended up knowing. And it was easy to pinpoint who knew on which day. 

Kunimi remained unbothered, while Kindaichi stared at them, dumbfounded, one practice when they walked in together. He snapped out of it once Oikawa flashed him a peace sign and asked him what was wrong, tugging Iwaizumi a little closer. Both Yahaba and Watari congratulated the two and expressed how happy they were for them. Kyoutani couldn’t stop sneaking looks at them, whether they were alone or together, until Oikawa dragged Iwaizumi to his side and kissed his cheek right in front of Mad Dog. 

“Is this better, Kyouken-chan?” Oikawa had asked with a saccharine grin. 

Kyoutani had immediately straightened and averted his gaze. But after a few seconds, he’d peered up at them, lingering on Iwaizumi with curiosity sitting plain on his face. Yahaba had strolled over to save his boyfriend of any further embarrassment, and at practice the next day, Kyoutani had completely adjusted, even groaning at Oikawa’s grand gestures. 

Overall, his team’s acceptance swelled in Oikawa’s heart and felt undeniably good. Nothing about their team dynamic changed, which should have been expected since Oikawa and Iwaizumi had always walked a tightrope between friendship and something more. 

Each passing day relaxed Oikawa bit by bit. Spending time with his friends, spending time with his teammates, spending time with  _ Iwaizumi _ , made him forget about his rising panic from that Saturday that had brought Iwaizumi and milk bread. He felt so much more comfortable that he hadn’t thought twice about inviting Iwaizumi to spend the night when his parents were out of town, a tradition that had carried on throughout their years of friendship. 

This led to the two sitting atop Oikawa’s couch making out, limbs tangled together and hearts beating fast. Oikawa’s brain worked a hundred miles a minute. 

Why couldn’t he just  _ relax?  _

But there was too much to focus on; there were too many sensations clawing for his attention. Iwaizumi’s tongue in his mouth, his hand slipping beneath Oikawa’s shirt to rest burning along his ribs, and of course, practically every inch of him pressed into Oikawa. 

Iwaizumi groaned when Oikawa sucked his lower lip into his mouth and gently bit down. For someone who had never been all that interested in sex and who had experienced his first kiss a little over a week ago, Oikawa was surprisingly good at this whole kissing thing– or maybe it was just that he knew his way around Iwaizumi’s body. 

He knew his way around every part of Iwaizumi’s body with the one exception of his growing erection. 

Oikawa wiggled his hips a bit as Iwaizumi grinded his own hips down, making it obvious just how hard he was. He prayed Iwaizumi didn’t notice Oikawa’s lack of a hard-on. And though Oikawa had squirmed a bit in an attempt to  _ avoid  _ Iwaizumi’s sweatpant covered bulge, the effect seemed to be the opposite. 

As Iwaizumi sucked a bruise onto Oikawa’s neck, he shifted down once more. Wasn’t Oikawa supposed to feel sparks? Wasn’t he supposed to feel warmth shooting down between his legs? Instead, it was his dick twitching and rising to half mast from the friction while Oikawa’s nerves solidified in his stomach. No sparks, no heat. He tried to think of the last time he had masturbated– which he did a measly once a month to stave off the aching– and much to his disappointment, he came to the realization that he hadn’t ever really thought of Iwaizumi during those uncomfortable moments. If Iwaizumi had floated into his mind while his hand was wrapped around his dick, Oikawa had immediately shoved him out, disgusted with himself for daring to bring him into it. 

Iwaizumi’s hand slid down to the top of Oikawa’s sweatpants and jolted him back to the present. His other hand cupped the back of Oikawa’s neck, pulling him closer. 

_ Relax. Relax. Relax,  _ Oikawa told himself.  _ It’s Iwaizumi. You’ve wanted this for so long.  _

Slowly, using too much of his concentration on such a trivial thing, Oikawa unlocked the tension in his muscles. One by one. It was the same thing he did before matches, when they sat around waiting to even step onto the court. 

Iwaizumi’s hand brushed over the top of his sweatpants and traveled farther down, until it covered Oikawa’s length. There was no hesitation in his touch, no second thoughts or doubts. 

“Oikawa,” he breathed, his deep voice raspy, blowing hot air against Oikawa’s ear. 

A shiver crept down Oikawa’s spine, and then Iwaizumi was palming him. Lightly. The warmth of his hand making Oikawa uncomfortably hot. He fought the urge to shift or squirm or even tense up again. His hands gripped the fabric of Iwaizumi’s shirt where they rested on his friend’s back. 

Between Iwaizumi’s hips still rocking down into Oikawa’s and his hand palming him, Oikawa was fully hard in a matter of seconds.  _ Now,  _ warmth spread from beneath Iwaizumi’s hand up into Oikawa’s stomach. 

But as soon as it happened, Iwaizumi pulled his hand away and slipped two fingers beneath the waistband of Oikawa’s sweats, tugging them away from his body slightly. 

“May I?” Iwaizumi asked. He moved so that he could look Oikawa in the eye as he asked, and Oikawa’s breath hitched at the sight of the lust glazing his eyes. 

Before Oikawa could panic, he reminded himself to relax. 

_ It feels good. Relax. It’s just a phase. Just a damn phase.  _

Oikawa nodded. Iwaizumi leaned in to capture Oikawa’s lips with his own, and his hand was soon wrapped around Oikawa’s bare dick. He pumped his hand at a leisurely pace, going so much slower than Oikawa ever had. The muscles in his back shifted with each drag of his palm up Oikawa’s erection. Oikawa tangled one hand in Iwaizumi’s short hair, tugging at the strands each time Iwaizumi rubbed his thumb across Oikawa’s slit. 

Iwaizumi’s lips never left Oikawa’s. He was hungry, his tongue pressing in closer, his lips angling. It felt like he was searching, devouring. Oikawa focused on  _ that  _ feeling. On Iwaizumi’s lips, not his hand. 

Heat gathered and knotted up at the base of Oikawa’s stomach. Growing and growing until his body betrayed him and jerked up into Iwaizumi’s hand. A breathy moan left his lips in a moment before Iwaizumi swallowed the sound. Sensing Oikawa’s sudden urgency and feeling the precum sliding down his erection, Iwaizumi’s hand sped up, pumping faster now. Oikawa’s heartbeat drowned out the noise, drowned out any of the little whimpers that escaped him. He squeezed his eyes shut and kissed Iwaizumi back harder than he should. Stars gathered in his eyes and then burst with a final tug of Iwaizumi’s hand, Oikawa’s back arching off the couch, sending his hips driving further into Iwaizumi’s hand. 

Oikawa’s lips broke from Iwaizumi’s as he let out a short, high-pitched moan. He barely felt his own cum spilling into Iwaizumi’s hand, which continued to move, coaxing him down from his high until he was panting pathetically and clinging to Iwaizumi’s shirt. 

Planting a kiss on Oikawa’s lips, Iwaizumi sat back and pulled his hand from Oikawa’s pants. 

“Huh,” he grunted. 

Feeling warm and out of sorts, Oikawa glanced down. 

His cum was splattered across Iwaizumi’s hand. 

Oikawa’s jaw dropped, unable to make a sound. Iwaizumi looked up at him. He cocked his head to the side, a smile– one that Oikawa didn’t altogether trust– ghosting his swollen lips. Locking onto Oikawa’s gaze, he slowly brought his hand up to his mouth and licked. 

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa shrieked. His hand shot out to grab Iwaizumi by the wrist and yank his cum-covered hand away from his mouth. 

A chuckle rumbled through Iwaizumi’s chest. 

“You taste bitter, Shittykawa,” he said. 

Oikawa stared and stared. He blinked. Then he pushed Iwaizumi back, slapping his free hand against Iwaizumi’s solid chest, letting loose another cry of his friend’s name. 

“You’re bitter!” Oikawa shouted. His brain was a little too frazzled to come up with anything better. 

Again, Iwaizumi laughed, but as soon as it died down, a heavy silence fell between them. Oikawa licked his lips. He still held Iwaizumi’s wrist, and he wasn’t planning on letting go until Iwaizumi agreed to wash his hand. But Iwaizumi’s eyes were dark and half-lidded, and if Oikawa squinted, he swore he could see red dusted across his cheeks. 

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi said. His voice was rough with want. Oikawa’s stomach sank. 

But he couldn’t just sit there doing nothing. Staring at an aroused Iwaizumi with the warmth of his own release still curling between his thighs. It was unfair of him. 

Oikawa gently pushed Iwaizumi down onto the armrest of the couch before crawling atop him and connecting their lips. The fire had all but died away, sitting in a pile of its own ash. To Oikawa, the kiss felt forced, unnatural. But as far as he could tell, Iwaizumi didn’t notice. Oikawa let him lead the kiss, let him lick deeper into his mouth and pull him closer. He tried to smother the rising pressure growing like weights on his shoulders. 

_ Relax,  _ he reminded himself.  _ That felt good. This should feel good, too. Rewarding, right? There’s nothing wrong with me. I just need to relax.  _

Pulling his attention away from the kiss, practically working his mouth on autopilot, Oikawa reached for the band of Iwaizumi’s sweatpants. Though his fingers were shaking– from what? His own climax? Nerves?– he managed to free Iwaizumi’s hard, considerable length from the confines of his sweats and wrapped his hand around it. Iwaizumi’s groan reverberated in Oikawa’s mouth as he pushed his hips up into Oikawa’s hand. A shudder ran down Oikawa’s spine. 

With Iwaizumi’s dick in his hand, he felt jumpy. Overstimulated. Over _ fed _ . And in all honesty, a little gross. More than anything, he wanted to clean off his own, still sticky cock and curl up in bed to sleep. 

But he couldn’t be the only one to get off. It would be unfair to Iwaizumi. Unfair to their years of friendship in which they were always equals.  _ Always.  _

Oikawa began to drag his hand up and down Iwaizumi’s length, feeling stiff and awkward, and was his heart really beating that loud in his ears? Pounding furiously and incessantly. His mind raced, all thoughts blurring together into one singular option. What seemed like the  _ only  _ option. Iwaizumi had jerked him off, right? Surely, Oikawa couldn’t just do the same and call it a night. Surely, Iwaizumi wanted the heat of Oikawa’s mouth around his aching erection. And Oikawa… Oikawa… 

Everything felt wrong. Suddenly Oikawa’s lungs squeezed and all the air stored there seemed to leave. He broke the kiss, and before Iwaizumi could lean in for more, he buried his face in his neck. He planted open-mouthed kisses across the warm expanse of Iwaizumi’s tan skin. 

After a brief moment of hesitation, Oikawa sucked at the spot where Iwaizumi’s neck met his strong shoulder. His hand didn’t stop moving, even as Iwaizumi’s hips bucked upward, and he tried to focus on nibbling and sucking his way to a nice bruise. Was he doing a good job? On either end? He couldn’t stop picturing Iwaizumi’s erection in his mouth. Couldn’t stop imagining how full his mouth would be, how there would be no space to breathe. Couldn’t stop thinking of how Iwaizumi would jerk his hips up and push Oikawa’s head down. It sounded horrible. It seemed uncomfortable. He didn’t want to suck Iwaizumi off. He didn’t want to suck  _ anyone  _ off. The image made it near impossible to relax, to let himself go and fully devote himself to getting Iwaizumi off. 

_ Be a good boyfriend and do it,  _ a voice sounded in his head. 

Steeling himself, Oikawa inhaled quietly. He slipped his free hand up Iwaizumi’s shirt and traced the hard lines and powerful muscle of his torso, making his way up to his chest and dragging the shirt up with him. Iwaizumi’s breath hitched when Oikawa bent over to kiss his way down Iwaizumi’s stomach. 

His heart drummed away in his chest, and faintly, Oikawa wondered if Iwaizumi could hear it. Then, as Oikawa kissed the top of Iwaizumi’s hip bone, precum leaked from Iwaizumi’s head and slipped down the side between Oikawa’s fingers. 

Oikawa froze. 

An alarm bell pealed in his head. No– static. A brief moment of radio silence, only silence wasn’t exactly a good way to describe it. It was scratchy and muffling, deafening. 

Oikawa snapped out of it as quickly as he had fallen into it. His entire body had locked up in a matter of a second, itching to recoil, and Oikawa hovered above Iwaizumi’s abdomen. He had pulled away, just slightly. His hand had slowed, slackened. 

“You don’t have to.” Iwaizumi’s rough voice cut through the dark silence of the room. 

Oikawa jerked his head up to peer into his friend’s face. Though he had his contacts in, he could only see his heavy lids, rather than whatever emotion lay beneath them. His cheeks were dark, and his breath came in short pants. His dick twitched in Oikawa’s hand, and Oikawa had to force himself not to wrench his hand back. 

“What–” Oikawa’s voice sounded breathy, and he fought to stifle the rising nervousness. “What are you talking about, Iwa-chan? 

Knocking his hand away, Iwaizumi said, “I can get myself off.” 

Relief trickled through Oikawa. And before he could protest– which he was halfway to doing, with his mouth hanging open– Iwaizumi switched their positions. Once again, Oikawa’s back sank into the couch cushions and Iwaizumi’s weight settled above him. Iwaizumi silenced any words of objection with his own mouth. 

Moments later, Iwaizumi came into his own hand, sucking a hickey into Oikawa’s neck. 

It wasn’t until both Oikawa and Iwaizumi had cleaned up that Oikawa could even begin to relax. Guilt barraged him over and over again. He couldn’t concentrate on the movie playing on the screen before them, and when the sex scene came up (why did  _ every  _ single movie have to have one?), his entire body tensed beneath Iwaizumi’s arm. He was a shitty boyfriend. God, he was a shitty boyfriend, wasn’t he? 

Oikawa snuck a glance at Iwaizumi, but of course, he couldn’t sneak anything when it came to him. Iwaizumi’s eyes slid to meet his, and he inclined his head. Oikawa tore his gaze away, refocusing on the tv and pretending to follow the movements on the screen. 

There was a pause before Iwaizumi said, “We can go slow, you know.” 

Oikawa looked back at him, but his gaze remained fixated on the movie. 

“What do you mean, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked, keeping his voice as light as possible. 

A grunt came from Iwaizumi, followed by a quick shrug of his broad shoulders. Neither of them turned to the other. 

“I mean what I said,” he said. “We can go as slow as you want.” 

It took a moment for the words to really sink in. For them to truly settle in and get the wheels in Oikawa’s head to start churning. Something fluttered in Oikawa’s stomach. He knew Iwaizumi meant it. Iwaizumi never said anything he didn’t mean. But what about what he  _ wasn’t  _ saying? What did he want? How fast did  _ he  _ want them to go? 

Oikawa was the captain. Oikawa was the setter. The control tower who directed the team. Everything had always been about him. But to him, everything had always been about Iwaizumi. So what did Iwaizumi expect from their relationship? 

Swallowing hard, Oikawa took a second to consider Iwaizumi’s question before slipping on that carefree mask of his. 

“Oh, Iwa-chan, always a gentleman,” he said, smiling and cuddling in closer to his friend. His boyfriend. “It’s fine. When has anything in our life ever been slow? Time doesn’t wait for us to pass.” 

Even as he said the words, his chest tightened. What the hell was he talking about? He was practically encouraging Iwaizumi to take him right then and there on the couch. While he did regret the amount of time lost– the wee hours of the night dedicated to sleep rather than practice or watching match tapes, the years that had passed while the two had stayed friends and Oikawa had harbored his crush– he didn’t want anything about their relationship to be fast. He just wanted to be with Iwaizumi, his best friend, his teammate, his co-captain, his  _ ace.  _ That was all. 

Oikawa could feel Iwaizumi’s gaze on him, but he stared resolutely ahead. Then a small sigh came from Iwaizumi. From the corner of his eyes, Oikawa caught him shaking his head. 

“I guess you’re right, Shittykawa.” 

After watching the movie (which had been about robots, not aliens or Godzilla), the two tucked themselves into Oikawa’s relatively small bed. It had been quite some time since they had spent the night together in the same bed, and having both grown a considerable amount, Oikawa found himself curling up into Iwaizumi’s arms and burying his face in his chest. Cocooning together was the only way neither would fall off. 

But Oikawa didn’t mind. Iwaizumi was warm and solid. As warm and solid a presence as he had been their whole life. 

Iwaizumi drifted to sleep long before Oikawa did. His breathing evened out and ruffled the top of Oikawa’s head.  _ Enjoy this moment now,  _ Oikawa thought.  _ Who knows what tomorrow will bring.  _

Because tomorrow, Oikawa’s doubts would solidify beneath the daylight. But tonight, Oikawa could let himself fall asleep in Iwaizumi’s arms, listening to the sound of his steady heartbeat that had somehow picked him and all his faults. 

♔ ♔ ♔

A lack of sleep and an excess of stress were not unusual parts of Oikawa’s life. In fact, they had become so normal that Oikawa didn’t know what it was like to  _ not  _ experience them. Which also meant he had become quite adept at handling them. But  _ this  _ was new: his relationship with Iwaizumi Hajime. And all of his stress over it, coupled by a weekend of virtually no sleep  _ because of  _ this stress, weighed unusually heavy on Oikawa as the week began. 

It was safe to say he felt like shit. 

In class, he couldn’t focus. In practice, his movements were slow. Parading around as his usual confident self was suddenly a lot harder. And everytime he looked at Iwaizumi, his selfishness tightened around his neck. 

_ He would be better off without me,  _ a voice whispered to him.  _ He should be with someone who  _ wants  _ to have sex with him.  _ Not someone inadequate like Oikawa. 

“Oi, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi called to him. With his cheek propped up by his hand, Oikawa turned to see Iwaizumi weaving his way between desks. It was early, before the bell had rung and school began. Oikawa felt something oily drip into his stomach. An emotion he was becoming more and more familiar with. Guilt. 

“Where the hell were you this morning?” he asked. His voice was gruff but his eyes were soft. Concern furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Morning, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said with a little wave and a cheerful smile. “A classmate asked me to help him study. He failed that exam I did so well on, so he has to retake it.” 

Iwaizumi stared at Oikawa. Confusion replaced his concern. Oikawa swallowed and kept smiling, begging Iwaizumi to take the lie. Like a coward, Oikawa had left his home earlier than normal that morning and walked to school by himself. In all their years of friendship, unless one of them had been sick, they had never walked to school without the other. 

“You–” Iwaizumi paused, his shoulders falling. Then he snorted. “Since when have you ever had time to help a classmate?” 

“I’ve got some free time on my hands now. I’m simply trying to be a good person,” Oikawa said. “You should try it some time, Iwa-chan.” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Shittykawa.” 

_ Knowing I could make you happy would probably do the trick,  _ Oikawa thought. 

But Oikawa laughed it off, and any lingering tension seemed to leave Iwaizumi. He returned the smile, a small twist of his mouth that Oikawa loved. If someone told him to choose between keeping that smile for eternity and going to Nationals, he would take the smile. 

Practice was the same as yesterday, which meant Oikawa made a single bad play in the middle of their practice match, flubbed some receives, and planned to make up for it all with a hundred serves once everyone left. 

He lifted his water bottle to his lips and took a long drink. Sweat dripped from his jaw down to his neck, so he dabbed at the skin with a spare towel. The last three-on-three match had just ended and everyone was either preparing to go home or taking a break before individual practice. Oikawa wiped his forehead, sweeping his damp hair off. 

Someone cleared their throat. 

“Oikawa-senpai…” It was Yahaba. Having never been one to shy away from confrontation, he stared Oikawa down with a look that was equal parts concern and suspicion. 

“Yes, my dear Yahaba-chan?” Oikawa said, smiling wide. 

“Are you…” Yahaba scratched the back of his head and shrugged. “Okay?” 

Oikawa’s response was automatic. As easy as flipping a switch. He waved his hand through the air with a little laugh. “I’m perfect, Yahaba-chan. Don’t you know that by now?” 

A moment of doubt flashed across Yahaba’s face before he scrunched up his nose in a way that suggested he was more than tempted to roll his eyes. But he paused and tilted his head to the side. Oikawa busied himself by taking another swig from his water bottle. 

“How’s Iwaizumi?”

Water lodged in his throat, and Oikawa spluttered to cough it out. Did Yahaba know? Had Iwaizumi told him? Told anyone on the team about Oikawa’s failings as a boyfriend? About the way he had locked up while in the middle of getting him off? Oikawa’s heart sank, and he struggled to keep it afloat. 

“Iwa-chan’s great. Absolutely great. We’re perfect, Yahaba-chan. Why do you ask?” he replied. “There’s no need to be worried about us. We’re your captains, afterall!” 

Yahaba’s brow furrowed. “I wasn’t worried.” Before Oikawa could begin to pick apart the meaning behind that, he continued. “It’s… good to hear you’re good. I was just curious.” 

“Right, right,” Oikawa said. “Of course. And how’s Kyouken-chan?” 

A private smile curled Yahaba’s lips. He glanced over to where Kyoutani was currently talking to Iwaizumi and Kindaichi, staring at Iwaizumi with perhaps too much intensity as he hung onto every word his captain said. The look was immediate, as if Yahaba kept tabs on where Kyoutani was at all times, just like Oikawa did with Iwaizumi. The thought made Oikawa smile a little. If Yahaba was that attuned to his team, he’d make a fine captain. 

“He’s great, too,” Yahaba said. “He’s… He’s Kyoutani.” 

Oikawa believed he knew what Yahaba meant. Kyoutani probably acted in a relationship the same way he did with those he first met. He was awkward and yet standoffish all in the same breath. Oikawa wasn’t sure how well he handled unfamiliar social interaction. Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure how Kyoutani handled his relationship with Yahaba at all. 

Laughing, Oikawa raked a hand through his hair, for once ignoring the way that it undoubtedly messed up the perfectly constructed waves. 

“Kyouken-chan doesn’t seem like the romantic type,” Oikawa said. 

Once more, Yahaba’s eyes darted over to where his boyfriend stood. His smile grew. 

“He tries, actually. More than you might expect,” he said. 

“Oh, I’d love to see it,” Oikawa cooed. “Let me know next time he shows up to class with a bouquet of roses in hand.” With a wink, Oikawa turned to leave, itching to get a head start on those hundred serves calling his name. 

Yahaba’s laugh trailed off before he said, “You’re not going home?” 

Oikawa looked back over his shoulder and blinked. Then, a strange laugh bubbling up, “Yahaba-chan, the sun’s not even halfway gone.” 

“I know, but…” Yahaba suddenly looked hesitant. Worried, even. Oikawa held back his frown. “You should get some rest, Oikawa-san.” 

_ Rest.  _ The word was practically foreign to Oikawa. 

Flashing a smile, Oikawa said, “There’s no need to worry about your captain, my dear underclassmen. I get plenty of rest.” 

Yahaba’s expression remained skeptical, but he didn’t try to stop Oikawa as he left his side and walked over to the basket of volleyballs. Oikawa felt his stare pressing into the middle of his back, the back of his head. Oikawa knew the team worried about his so-called lack of rest, but that worry had always stayed put in their lingering stares and furrowed brows as they watched him pick up a volleyball on their way out the door. He wasn’t used to such an outright expression of it – at least, not from someone who wasn’t Iwaizumi. 

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Iwaizumi’s voice barraged Oikawa as his hand clamped down on Oikawa’s wrist. His other hand smacked the volleyball back into the basket. 

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa exclaimed, swinging in his direction with a glare. 

“You’re done for today,” Iwaizumi said. 

“You know, you’re starting to act like my mom again.” 

Oikawa fingers twitched, and he half-heartedly tried to pull his wrist from Iwaizumi’s grasp. However, it was futile, and Oikawa knew it. There was no stronger grip than that of his long-time best friend’s. 

The two stared at each other with equal conviction. 

Iwaizumi broke first– since he always broke first– and sighed. 

“There’s no need for you to keep overworking yourself. I can practically see you calculating the number of serves you’re planning because of a few flimsy receives. But you’re being any idiot, Crappykawa. You need rest.” 

Squinting, Oikawa glanced back at Yahaba, who was strolling across the gym with one eye trained on their conversation. 

“Yahaba-chan couldn’t have said something so fast…” Oikawa muttered. 

“What?” Iwaizumi said. 

“Nothing, nothing,” Oikawa said, returning his attention to a near-scowling Iwaizumi. “Why do I need rest, again?” 

Rather than releasing Oikawa, Iwaizumi turned and tugged Oikawa along, though his grip loosened enough for Oikawa to break free, if he wanted. 

“It’s not a crime to rest, and you look like you need it,” he said. Oikawa frowned and reached up to push at the dark bags under his eyes. The purple had sunken deeper into his skin than normal, such that, against Oikawa’s pale skin, he nearly appeared bruised. If it hadn’t escaped Yahaba’s notice, it certainly hadn’t escaped Iwaizumi’s. And though he wanted to continue practicing, to feel the sting of the volleyball smack against his palm, he  _ was  _ tired. There was no denying it, no skirting around the fact. He was tired of overthinking, tired of stressing. Tired of constantly doubting himself even when his abilities reached a level of exceptional. 

So Oikawa let Iwaizumi drag him along and said, “You’re like a bull, Iwa-chan. So stubborn and strong.” 

Iwaizumi huffed a bit. “ _ You’re _ the stubborn one here.” 

♔ ♔ ♔

“Hey, dumbasses,” Matsukawa called from the door of the gym. “You’re not team captains anymore. Go home.” 

Throwing up a peace sign and sticking out his tongue, Oikawa said, “How can I go home when Iwa-chan’s letting me practice?” And it was true. After being pestered by texts from Iwaizumi the night before, yelling at him to go to sleep, Oikawa had gotten the rest prescribed. While one night of sleep would never be enough to erase the dark bags beneath his eyes, a solid eight hours was satisfactory enough to Iwaizumi for him to agree to hitting some more tosses. 

“Or maybe he just wants to fuck you in the locker room,” Hanamaki said, slipping past Matsukawa. Oikawa’s stomach flipped. 

“ _Makki!_ ” Oikawa screeched after him. “We’ve talked about this!” 

“Don’t mind him,” Matsukawa said as he turned to leave. “Just clean up after yourselves.” 

“Not you, too, Mattsun!” Oikawa cried. Their snickers barely reached Oikawa as they disappeared out of sight, heading home beneath a darkening sky. Oikawa glanced at Iwaizumi, who was staring at the doorway with a flush and scowl scrawled across his features. 

Oikawa bit his lip and spun the volleyball in his hand. 

“Ready, Iwa-chan?” 

Iwaizumi met his gaze and nodded. Shaking out his shoulders and rolling his neck, he took up position on the court. Some form of relief made its way through Oikawa. It seemed like they both would be ignoring Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s comments, writing them off as nothing more than jokes. Though a part of Oikawa still had to wonder if Iwaizumi  _ wanted  _ to bang him in the clubroom. He tried not to cringe at the thought. 

Not quite an hour later and Iwaizumi forced Oikawa to help him clean and lock up the gym. It wasn’t enough time in Oikawa’s opinion– it was never enough time– but once again, Iwaizumi had convinced him to stop. 

Sweat clung to Oikawa like a second skin, and he wrinkled his nose as he pulled his damp shirt away from his body. The fluorescent lights of the clubroom flickered. 

“I think I’m gonna shower here,” he said. 

He looked up to find Iwaizumi pulling his shirt up over his head. A bead of sweat rolled down from his bronze collarbone and slid down his stomach. Oikawa tracked its path across Iwaizumi’s abs until it reached the waistband of his shorts. He swallowed. 

“Was planning on it,” Iwaizumi said, his low voice rasping against the words. 

Heat rose to Oikawa’s cheeks as he looked up to find Iwaizumi staring at him. Watching Oikawa watch that damn bead of sweat. He arched a brow. 

Swiveling away, Oikawa began to strip, his heart suddenly beating too fast. “Yeah, that’s good,” he said, nearly tripping over the words. “I hate walking home this sweaty. It’s bad for my complexion.” Iwaizumi scoffed and threw a towel over his shoulder. Having discarded all his clothes aside from his briefs, Oikawa followed suit, stepping onto the tiled floor of the bathroom area and yanking back the curtain of the nearest shower. 

Iwaizumi cleared his throat. Oikawa glanced at him, purposefully avoiding the strong muscles of his thighs and focusing on his face. Iwaizumi tilted his head in the direction of a shower, a tiny quirk to his lips. 

“You don’t want to shower together?” 

Oikawa’s heart jolted and lodged itself in his throat. A click sounded from the main area of the clubroom. Oikawa willed himself into flippancy. 

Pulling back his shoulders, Oikawa stretched a smile onto his face. “I know you want to admire how perfect my body is compared to your’s,” he said. “But I like my privacy, Iwa-chan.”

It felt utterly ridiculous to say. If someone’s body was going to be admired, it was going to be Iwaizumi’s. Oikawa just hoped that Iwaizumi bought into Oikawa’s inflated ego, just this once, as he slipped inside the shower. Cold radiated off the tiles and pressed into Oikawa’s skin. Turning, he slumped against the wall and welcomed the further cold that seeped into him. He reached for the knob when he heard something drop. Not a loud thud, but a quiet scraping against the ground. He listened as Iwaizumi walked back in the direction of the lockers. 

“Kyoutani?” he said. 

Oikawa ripped the shower curtain back and swung around the corner. 

“Kyouken-chan?” he said, all overwhelming enthusiasm and wide grins. 

Sure enough, Kyoutani stood in the middle of the clubroom like a deer in headlights. He was half bent over, one hand wrapped around the practice bag that was slipping from his shoulder. Red tinged his cheeks as he stared wide-eyed at his practically naked captains. He straightened and lifted his hands, palms facing forward, already backing away. His eyes darted between the two as if he couldn’t choose who to focus on. 

“I– I forgot my bag,” he said. Then, suddenly he swept down into a low bow. “I’m sorry for intruding!” 

“Oi, there’s no need for that, Kyoutani,” Iwaizumi said. It was his friendly captain voice. The casual one that everyone on the team who  _ wasn’t  _ a third-year got to hear. 

Kyoutani’s blush only deepened. His back bumped into the door, and he flinched, swiveling to grab the doorknob. He still couldn’t stop looking between them. It was as if they had grown two heads. Or better yet, as if they were two heads conjoined on one body. Oikawa couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. 

“Have a good night,” Kyoutani grunted then slipped out of the room and slammed the door behind him. Iwaizumi and Oikawa exchanged a look. Iwaizumi’s cheeks puffed up and all at once, he burst into laughter. Oikawa grinned, a couple chuckles floating between his teeth. 

“He looked like he thought we were going to kill him,” Iwaizumi said. 

“And look at us! Since when have we been scary?” Oikawa said, spreading his arms wide. The whole encounter had been odd, especially seeing Kyoutani,  _ Mad Dog,  _ flustered. Oikawa quietly catalogued that bit in his brain, hoping to rile him up some more in the future, since it apparently was possible. 

“You’re certainly scary when you want to be,” Iwaizumi said. He turned to make his way back toward the showers. 

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Oikawa said. 

Iwaizumi cast him a look of disbelief. “You literally try to find ways to emotionally destroy your opponents. That’s scary as hell when you’re on the receiving end.” 

Oikawa rolled his eyes. “Kyouken-chan’s my teammate. He wouldn’t be scared of that.” His gaze slid towards Iwaizumi, a sly smile making its way across his lips. “I bet he was scared of  _ you,  _ Iwa-chan. You look quite frightening in those briefs. Which, by the way, I’m a bit surprised by. I always pegged you as the boxer type.” 

Both Iwaizumi’s brows rose towards his hairline. 

“The hell, Shittykawa?” he said, though his heart wasn’t in it and his words twisted with amusement. A grin tugged at the side of his mouth. “You’ve seen me in briefs before.” 

Oikawa waved a hand and tossed his towel on the hook. 

“Kyoutani hasn’t,” he said. 

Iwaizumi grunted, and Oikawa glanced over right as he stepped back into the shower. Iwaizumi’s gaze raked down Oikawa’s body. A shiver ran down Oikawa’s spine, one that he fought against. Before Iwaizumi could say anything else, Oikawa pulled the curtain shut and turned on the water, not bothering to twist it to the heat. 

Oikawa was glad for this when he stepped outside of the clubroom, freshly showered and dressed in clean clothes. The spring night air was warmer than usual. A breeze kissed the back of Oikawa’s neck as water dripped from his hair. 

Stretching his arms out above his head, Iwaizumi sighed and said, “This is nice. I missed warm weather.” 

Though Oikawa agreed, he shot him a look. “It’s been warm, Iwa-chan.” 

He received a half-hearted glare in response. 

The two began the walk home and as Oikawa stared up at the sky, the moon a slender crescent hanging between stars, he was hit with the realization that he would miss this. He would miss his hometown. He would miss walking down the familiar roads with his head lost in the stars and Iwaizumi by his side. He reached for Iwaizumi’s hand. 

“Oikawa…” Iwaizumi said. At the odd tone in Iwaizumi’s voice, Oikawa’s hand fell back to his side, and he dropped his head to look at him. “Are you… okay?”  
Oikawa’s brow furrowed. With his hands in his pockets, Iwaizumi regarded Oikawa from the corner of his eye. Oikawa blinked, his head listing to the side. In a matter of seconds, his heartbeat picked up, skipping a nervous little beat in his chest. 

“What do you mean, Iwa-chan?” he asked. 

Iwaizumi lifted his shoulders then dropped them. He turned his gaze to the buildings ahead, but Oikawa couldn’t bear to look away from him. 

“You’ve been acting… weird, since we’ve started… You know. Dating,” Iwaizumi said. 

Oikawa’s heart stuttered. Paused and restarted. Memories came flashing forward. The sun glinting off the swing set in the playground. Iwaizumi’s expression when Oikawa had admitted that he liked him back. Ripping into the milk bread to avoid looking at Iwaizumi after he’d panicked during their makeout session. Iwaizumi knocking his hand away so that he could jerk himself off. The sinking feeling in Oikawa’s stomach everytime he thought of not being able to give Iwaizumi what he wanted. 

But Oikawa was happy. Wasn’t he? 

Yet the more he thought about it, the more he realized he hadn’t let himself be happy. He’d never been relaxed. It was always his thoughts crowding in, worry overtaking any spark of joy. The only time he hadn’t worried had been that day on the swing set. That confession. Why couldn’t he have held on to that feeling? 

It had taken Oikawa too long to respond. He couldn’t even consider how to answer. He wanted to reassure Iwaizumi that he was fine, that  _ they  _ were fine, but he  _ had  _ been acting weird. Oikawa quickly glanced up at the sky and found Mars’s red light blinking back at him. 

Iwaizumi’s voice came quietly. “If you don’t want this… If you don’t want us–” 

“No!” Oikawa said, halting abruptly. His eyes went wide, his heart pounded inside his rib cage. Then, softer, trying to convey all his feelings with his words, “I do. I really want this.” 

A step ahead, Iwaizumi had stopped to stare back at Oikawa. 

His expression made Oikawa uneasy in its inscrutability, so he scrambled to continue. “I’ve wanted this for a long time. Longer than I probably realize.” Oikawa released a breath and forced his lips upward in a tiny, lopsided smile. “Don’t ruin it for me now, Iwa-chan.” 

He meant:  _ Don’t let me ruin this for you, Iwa-chan. Don’t let me ruin  _ us. 

Iwaizumi was quiet for a moment, searching Oikawa’s face for something Oikawa couldn’t have guessed. Oikawa felt a bit unhinged, a bit raw. In that moment, beneath the swirling sky, it all felt a bit surreal. He was dating Iwaizumi Hajime, the only person he’d ever loved and the only person he probably ever would, and he was going to squander their chance at a relationship. His heart felt heavy with that fear. 

Then, Iwaizumi released a sigh and held out his hand. “Me too. I’ve wanted this for longer than you know.” 

Despite his fear and his doubts, the anxiety that felt like it would eat away at his insides, there was no hesitation as Oikawa took Iwaizumi’s hand in his. He smiled, briefly, and Iwaizumi’s returning smile was soft. All his sharp edges were softened by the night. Oikawa wondered if his were, too. 

“Now, let’s go home, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi said, simultaneously tugging Oikawa closer to him and tugging him into motion. 

“Always with the Shittykawa,” Oikawa complained. “Way to ruin the moment, Iwa-chan.” 

Iwaizumi glanced back at him, a tilt to his lips. “Speak for yourself. I’ll start calling you Oikawa when you stop calling me Iwa-chan.” 

Oikawa huffed. “Well then prepare to die unsatisfied.” 

“Who’s ruining the moment now?” 

“You started it!” 

♔ ♔ ♔

The weekend passed, and despite Iwaizumi’s attentiveness to Oikawa’s mood and Oikawa’s admission of his long-time desire to date Iwaizumi, Oikawa managed to skirt around seeing Iwaizumi alone. Hanamaki and Matsukawa had convinced Oikawa to join them and crash Iwaizumi’s place. But Oikawa had left minutes after they had, blaming it on his parents’ non-existent curfew or something or other. He was scared of disappointing Iwaizumi, again. He was scared of facing his own revulsion. He was just scared. 

The only thing that helped was practice. The stress that had weighed him down the week before had found its home and tucked itself snug between his heart and rib cage, freeing his limbs and loosening his muscles so that he could use practice as a way to calm down and think about something other than Iwaizumi. 

The ball hit the other side of the court with a satisfying smack, exactly where Oikawa had wanted it to go. Oikawa straightened and wiped the sweat from his brow. 

“Oikawa-san?” 

Oikawa spun to face Yahaba, his fingers twitching to pick up another volleyball. 

“Can I…” Yahaba began. His arms hung rigid at his side, his shoulders reaching for his ears, but he maintained eye contact with his captain. “Can we talk after practice?” 

Smiling, Oikawa tilted his head to the side and flashed the ok sign. “Of course, Yahaba-chan.” 

Yahaba dipped his head in a bow, uttered a quick thank you, and returned to practice. Oikawa watched him go without masking his curiosity. What could have Yahaba so nervous? Normally, his kouhais asked for advice  _ during  _ practice. 

Oikawa found himself automatically shifting towards Iwaizumi, his eyes landing on him as he surveyed the court. He was going through spiking drills alongside Matsukawa. It was difficult not to forget all about his serving practice in favor of tossing to the two. But he forced himself to turn back to the basket and pick up another ball. 

It wasn’t until the gym had been cleaned when Oikawa found himself face to face with Yahaba. He’d told Iwaizumi to go on ahead and get changed without him; he’d only be a few minutes behind. 

“How can I be of service, my Yahaba-chan?” Oikawa asked. 

“Actually…” Yahaba gestured to the open door of the gym, darkness seeping in from the outside. “We don’t have to stay in here, if you don’t want. I mean, obviously it’s lighter in here, but I’m not asking about volleyball. We can do whatever–” 

“Quit fussing, Yahaba-chan. You sound a bit like Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said, grinning. He hoped the joke and his smile would ease some of the nerves off Yahaba, but his underclassmen frowned at the floor. “Let’s… go outside.” The bright lights of the gym suddenly seemed like they would be too much for this conversation, if Yahaba’s fiddling was any indication. So Oikawa ushered Yahaba outside, turning off the lights and shutting the doors with a click. Maybe the night would have the same effect on Yahaba as it did on him. 

“So, what’s wrong?” Oikawa asked. He stuffed his hands in his pockets while Yahaba wrung his fingers together. 

“Nothing’s… wrong,” he said. “I’m just… It’s…” Yahaba took a deep breath and met Oikawa’s gaze. “It’s about Iwaizumi.” 

Oikawa stilled. 

“I apologize if I’m overstepping, but it’s… hard not to notice when our captains are out of sync.” 

Oikawa’s entire world spun. His heart thundered into action, and all he could think was how his relationship with Iwaizumi should have brought them together. It should have unified them into an even stronger front, if possible. Instead, it was worrying his underclassmen.  _ Their  _ underclassmen. Who else had noticed their dissonance? 

“What do you mean, exactly?” Oikawa spoke slowly, carefully. 

Taking another breath, Yahaba dropped his hands and squared his shoulders. When he straightened out, some confidence seemed to have bolstered him. A resolve unknown to Oikawa glimmered in his eye. 

“Kyoutani heard you two last week. In the locker room,” Yahaba said. Oikawa frantically scoured his memory for anything incriminating that could have slipped when the two were alone. Yahaba continued, “He forgot his bag, and when he went back to get it, he caught the end of your conversation. Something about Iwaizumi asking you to join him in the shower?” 

Oikawa’s eyes widened and his cheeks warmed. Yahaba showed no sign of embarrassment at thinking of his captains in such a position. 

“And you… You said no?” It was more of a question than anything else. And it seemed as if this entire conversation hinged on Oikawa’s answer. 

Oikawa swallowed hard and barely nodded. “I did… but it’s the clubroom! Come on, Yahaba-chan, I was trying to be respectful to you and the rest of my precious kouhais.” Oikawa’s thoughts only seemed to mush together in incoherence the more he tried to figure out where this was going. 

“I’m not judging you,” Yahaba said, perhaps a bit too quickly. “I mean, it surprised me a little. It seems like something you wouldn’t try to avoid but… Anyway, that’s not the point! I actually… I brought it up because it reminded me of my relationship with Kyoutani.” 

Oikawa blinked. Was he going to ask for relationship advice or something? 

Yahaba’s gaze poured into Oikawa. With the shadow of the gym and the night sky washing his face in darkness and the stars reflecting in his eyes, Oikawa didn’t quite feel like he was having this conversation with Yahaba. Or maybe like it was all a dream. An illusion. Something not quite tangible. 

“ _ You  _ reminded me of Kyoutani,” Yahaba said. 

A laugh bubbled up and burst from Oikawa’s mouth. It was a short, disbelieving sound. And just like that, the illusion was broken. 

“Really, Yahaba-chan? No offense to Kyouken-chan, but he doesn’t match my charm.” 

Yahaba smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You may seem like polar opposites, but…” Yahaba shrugged. “Kyoutani’s never been in a relationship before. And in all honesty, he’s a little scared of our relationship. He’s afraid of hurting me. He’s… He’s reluctant to touch me. He’s gotten better with the little stuff, but going farther than a kiss…” Yahaba trailed off, as if it was evident. 

Oikawa paused to realign this new side of Kyoutani with the side he already knew. The two easily clicked into place together. Kyoutani was brittle and reckless, but Oikawa guessed it was because of those traits that Kyoutani was a lot more cautious with Yahaba. 

How did this all relate back to him and Iwaizumi?

“I don’t know your reason for refusing to join Iwaizumi-san in the shower,” Yahaba continued. “And maybe I’m reading into all this a bit too much. I apologize if I am. But the harmony is broken between you two. And you seem… not like the Oikawa-senpai I know. Whatever’s going on between you and Iwaizumi-san, I think you should talk it out. I’ve forced Kyoutani into more honest conversations than I ever thought possible. It’s really helped.” 

Realization slid into place. Yahaba wasn’t  _ asking  _ for relationship advice; he was giving it. 

Oikawa’s thoughts tumbled around him. Talking to Iwaizumi about the glaring difference in their desires seemed impossible. Implausible. Oikawa knew he would find out eventually, but he’d never paused to consider how he might be the one to formally bring it up. To admit his flaws, this defect. 

Oikawa took a deep breath. He opened his mouth. Closed it. His heart fluttered wildly; he considered finding Mars to calm him. 

“How do I… do that?” Oikawa asked, feeling helpless. 

Yahaba’s brow furrowed. “Talk to Iwaizumi? You two are best friends.” 

“But we’ve never been boyfriends.” 

“It’s not much different.” A grin split Yahaba’s face. “There’s just more kissing.” 

Oikawa wanted to laugh, but he could only think about how kissing more often than not led to other things. Yahaba’s smile fizzled out as he noticed Oikawa’s expression. For once, Oikawa wasn’t in a position to reassure his underclassmen. 

After a moment of consideration, Yahaba said, “I can’t help if I don’t know the problem.” 

The problem was Oikawa. 

Now it was Oikawa’s turn to appear nervous. He lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck and glanced up at the sky. Mars’s red light immediately winked back at him. His heart surged and sighed. Yahaba wouldn’t press him. Not only because Oikawa was his captain, but because Yahaba respected his boundaries. But the truth crawled up Oikawa’s throat and pressed at the roof of his mouth. 

He dropped his shoulders and then his hands. Yahaba wasn’t the type to judge Oikawa, not when he seemed so understanding of someone as rough around the edges as Kyoutani. 

“I think I’m asexual,” Oikawa said at last, raising his eyes to look at Yahaba. Yahaba’s brow twitched, as though this surprised him, but he remained quiet, his expression passive. “And Iwaizumi doesn’t know. And I’m… I’m fucking up our relationship. I freak out everytime we kiss and he tries to go further. But I don’t want to disappoint him. I’m already disappointing him, I think.” The last bit stuck in Oikawa’s throat, and the truth, said aloud, felt like it would crush him. 

“Oikawa, if I know anything about Iwaizumi-san, it’s that he loves you,” Yahaba said. 

Oikawa jerked back. Oikawa loved Iwaizumi. His heart knew it, and so did he. A part of him had always loved Iwaizumi, from the moment he had met him. But for Yahaba to say that Iwaizumi loved him back, and for him to say it so confidently… 

“Iwaizumi-san would do anything for you,” Yahaba said. “Take it from me. I don’t give a shit if Kyoutani’s afraid to touch me or if he doesn’t want to go farther than a blowjob–” 

“TMI, Yahaba-chan,” Oikawa interjected. The thought of either one of them on their knees before the other made Oikawa undeniably uncomfortable. He couldn’t deny the way it grossed him out to think of Iwaizumi’s dick in his mouth. 

Yahaba rolled his eyes. “My point is, it doesn’t matter. The physical stuff isn’t the core of our relationship, and it shouldn’t be. I like Kyoutani for who he is. Not for how often we can have sex. And I know Iwaizumi’s the same.” There was a pause, and then, “Honestly, I think he will be more disappointed that you felt like you couldn’t tell him rather than anything else.” 

Guilt riddled Oikawa’s stomach even as a tentative warmth dared to spread through Oikawa’s chest. He was unsure– about so, so many things– but he didn’t want to be unsure about this. He didn’t want to be unsure about  _ Iwaizumi.  _ Iwaizumi was the strongest, most reliable person he knew. He had stuck with Oikawa this long, hadn’t he? Why should this be any different? 

_ Because you’re ruining his expectations,  _ that tiny, doubtful voice in the back of Oikawa’s head said. Oikawa forcefully shoved it away. 

“Thank you, Yahaba-chan,” he said. “That was really… nice. I’m sorry you had to see your perfect captain like this.” He flashed an apologetic, perhaps sad, smile. 

Yahaba quickly swatted his hand in the air and rubbed at the back of his neck. “No, no, not at all. I’m glad I could help. And I’m really happy I wasn’t overstepping. It’s your business with Iwaizumi-san.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t be thinking about talking to him about this if it weren’t for you. I’ll treat you, sometime, alright?” 

Yahaba smiled, any tension dropping from his body, relieved to have not offended his senior. “It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for us.” Oikawa squinted, and his expression must have prompted Yahaba to continue, a small laugh escaping him. “You’re a great captain, Oikawa-san. We can’t thank you enough. You and Iwaizumi both.” 

♔ ♔ ♔

The urge to tell Iwaizumi was smothering. The urge to not tell him, to ignore it, was even stronger. The two warred inside Oikawa the entire day. Reasons why either would be beneficial swarmed in Oikawa’s mind, buzzing around until he couldn’t focus during class. Until he couldn’t function properly. 

All his smiles were strained, all his laughs were choked. When Iwaizumi tried to catch his eye, he looked away. When Iwaizumi caught his elbow just to say something to him, Oikawa flitted out of his grasp. 

He wanted to tell him. He didn’t want to tell him. When would it be the right time? When was the perfect moment to have this conversation? 

Practice was the one time when it was nearly impossible to avoid him. His voice echoed off the walls, his presence stood shrouding Oikawa’s every step. The familiar routine did little to ease Oikawa’s nerves, especially when he picked Hanamaki to toss to. At that, all the third years eyed him with suspicion. 

“Don’t say it,” Oikawa said, holding out a hand in Hanamaki’s direction. 

“I wasn’t going to,” Hanamaki said. 

The toss had gone awry. It had been so close to the net that Hanamaki barely managed to smash it to the other side. Oikawa’s hands felt clammy. 

Hanamaki gave Oikawa a moment to regain himself. Oikawa straightened and stopped himself from pressing a hand to his chest, to the place over his heart. It wouldn’t stop pounding and pounding. Drumming incessantly against his ears. Normally, the physical exertion calmed any stress pooling in his body from the day. But he couldn’t forget about his conversation with Yahaba and his silent promise to talk to Iwaizumi. 

“Okay,” Oikawa said. “Go again.” 

Hanamaki didn’t move. He was looking at something beyond Oikawa, his lips pressed together in a thin line. Oikawa turned. 

Iwaizumi stood just inside the court lines with his arms folded over his chest. 

“Oikawa,” he said, voice rumbling. “Let’s take a break.” 

Oikawa wanted to scowl, but at the sight of his boyfriend, his stomach erupted into butterflies.  _ Say something, say something, say something.  _

“I’m fine, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said, his voice pitched higher than normal. 

Iwaizumi’s expression morphed into skepticism and rather than respond, he merely grabbed Oikawa by the arm and proceeded to pull him out of the gym. Kindaichi resolutely looked the other way, while Kyoutani stared with lowered ears. Oikawa latched onto Yahaba’s gaze. His underclassmen gave an encouraging smile and nod of his head. Oikawa swallowed. 

As Iwaizumi released Oikawa, the door of the gym falling closed behind them, he was gentle. This shouldn’t have surprised Oikawa as much as it did, because all of Iwaizumi’s touches were gentle. 

“Oikawa, what’s wrong?” Worry melted into the question and seeped into Iwaizumi’s features. There was no crossing of his arms or darkening of his eyes in the makings of a glare. It was concern, plain and simple. 

The sun, making its slow descent to the horizon, cast the gym’s shadow over them. Orange light reflected off the windows of the high school. Pink and yellow threaded themselves through clouds and bled into the blue sky. Oikawa’s chest felt very, very tight. 

“I… have to tell you something,” Oikawa said. 

Iwaizumi waited. Oikawa clasped his hands in front of him, unclasped them, and dropped them by his side. How should he even begin?

“I know I’ve been acting weird ever since we started dating,” he said. “The thing is I… I’m scared. I don’t want to disappoint you. I don’t want to ruin our relationship and then think we were better off as friends.” Oikawa felt like his head was spinning, and he couldn’t seem to look Iwaizumi in the face. This was a confrontation Oikawa was not used to. 

Iwaizumi frowned and then said softly, fondly, “We were never just friends, Oikawa.” 

The words put Oikawa at a loss for a moment, though he knew they were true. Iwaizumi had been a part of Oikawa’s life for as long as he could remember. He showed up in every childhood memory, in every place Oikawa had ever been. Their lives had been intricately tied together by the hands of fate, and now, it all came down to Oikawa whether or not he would cut that string. If such a thing was even possible. 

Oikawa suddenly felt more than a little bit bad about doubting Iwaizumi. About thinking their relationship was something so fragile. He owed this to Iwaizumi, to tell him the truth. He took a deep breath. 

“I think I’m asexual. Actually, I’m almost sure of it,” Oikawa said. Saying it out loud, for the second time in his life, was so much worse than the first time. The weight of telling Iwaizumi was much heavier than telling Yahaba. “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to mess this up. I didn’t want to mess  _ us  _ up. I’m sorry. I…” Oikawa’s fingers curled into fists, the muscles in his shoulders bunching, but he forced himself to look at Iwaizumi. “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want.” 

Iwaizumi had been quiet, his expression passive, regarding Oikawa as he talked. But now, his face scrunched up, everything twisting into a confused, annoyed frown. 

“Are you stupid, Shittykawa?” Iwaizumi said. Oikawa flinched, and his vision blurred. “What do you mean you can’t give me what I want? You’ve already given me everything I could have asked for.” 

Tears slipped down Oikawa’s cheeks. “What?” he croaked. 

Then his face was buried in Iwaizumi’s shoulder as Iwaizumi wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close enough that Oikawa could feel Iwaizumi’s heartbeat against his own. 

“You’ve already given me everything I could ever want,” Iwaizumi said, his hand pushing through the hair at the back of Oikawa’s skull, holding him. “You. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Tooru.” 

Oikawa hiccuped as more tears spilled from his eyes. He clutched at the back of Iwaizumi’s shirt, Iwaizumi’s warmth seeping into him, embracing him. 

“But Iwa-chan… You… You’re… How are you–” Oikawa choked on his words between sobs. 

“I don’t care if we never have sex. I don’t care that you’re asexual. You’ve given me the world, and it would be unfair of me to ask for more,” Iwaizumi said. Oikawa sobbed harder. “Oikawa, I love you. Did you hear that, Shittykawa? Even with all your complaining and your giant ego, I love you. So quit acting like I’m going to leave you just because you don’t want to have sex.” 

Sniffing, Oikawa pulled away enough so that he could look at Iwaizumi. Tears streamed down his face, and he knew he wasn’t a pretty sight. But he needed to look at Iwaizumi as he said it. 

“I love you, Hajime. I’m sorry–” 

Iwaizumi knocked him against the head. 

“Don’t you dare apologize, Tooru,” he said. There was a fierce gleam in his eyes, but it was a thin veil above the love shining there. Oikawa felt like his heart would burst. His lips split into a grin. 

“Such a brute, Iwa-chan,” he said. 

Iwaizumi reached up to wipe away the wet trail of tears with his thumb. “Your brute,” he said, a small quirk to his lips. For a moment, they simply sat there and stared at each other with matching, gooey smiles. Then, Iwaizumi pressed a kiss to Oikawa’s forehead, and when he pulled away, his face had turned serious. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Are we okay?”

Oikawa let his head fall forward so that their foreheads bumped. He sniffed again. 

“As long as you’re okay with me and all my flaws.” 

“It’s not a flaw, Tooru,” Iwaizumi said, running a hand through Oikawa’s hair. “And I’m okay with it. You’re in charge, captain.” 

Oikawa huffed in a way that mimicked a laugh. Iwaizumi smiled. 

“So… am I allowed to kiss you?” he asked, concern flashing across his eyes. 

Oikawa nodded. “I like kissing.” 

So they kissed, and Oikawa melted even further into Iwaizumi’s embrace, feeling wholly loved and safe. For the first time since that day on the swingset, Oikawa’s heart felt light. A surety flooded through his body that made him kiss Iwaizumi harder. Iwaizumi  _ loved  _ him. Every part of him. Iwaizumi accepted him for who he was and remained unshaken. It was the most Iwaizumi thing Oikawa could imagine, which meant that Oikawa doubting that had been the stupidest thing he could imagine. 

When they pulled away, Oikawa wrapped his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck. 

“I love you,” he said. 

“I love you,” Iwaizumi replied. “But I swear I will serve a ball to the back of your head the next time you think you can’t tell me something so important.” 

A smile curled around Oikawa’s lips. “That’s the Iwa-chan I love.” 

“And that’s the Shittykawa I love.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading! I certainly enjoyed writing this :)  
> Feel free to dm me about asexuality, iwaoi, or anything else on my twitter

**Author's Note:**

> if you wanna chat about asexuality or help me with an iwaoi fate/zero au, dm me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/elevenaffogatos)


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